#tony would absolutely wear heels

[sycamorelibrary754]

Merry Christmas

Summary: It’s the most wonderful time of the year. You and Natasha are off to the annual Stark Christmas Party. Little does the team know that a special surprise awaits them.

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Natasha x reader, Avengers x reader (platonic).

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is part 2 to Happy Thanksgiving! I recommend reading it first, but it can be read as a stand-alone story as well. I hope you enjoy!

“Be down in a minute, malyshka!” Natasha called from the bedroom. 

You were standing in the cozy kitchen, savoring spoonfuls of creamy peanut butter straight from the jar, drizzled with rich chocolate sauce. You jokingly referred to it as your "homemade Reese's." It was your first pregnancy craving, prompting Nat to rush to the corner grocery store at 2 am to procure the duo of ingredients.

"No need to worry, my dear!" I'm all set for Tony's yearly Christmas gathering at the estate. I'm wearing a stunning green Sequin-Lace Halter Twist-Neck Jumpsuit, and my growing baby bump adds an extra glow to the outfit.

Natasha's arrival was announced by the confident click of her high heels. A few moments later, she appeared in a stunning, sleek red midi dress with a scoop-back design, perfectly accentuating her figure.

"Wow, Nat, you look absolutely stunning in red. It's definitely your color," you complimented.

Her smirk grew as she put on her earrings, 'So, you're choosing it over the black?' she teased.

"I never said that, did I?" with a cheeky wink.

"Is the little one loving the homemade Reese’s?" she said, grabbing her clutch.

Absolutely!" I exclaimed, setting aside the tempting chocolate and peanut butter. "How about we whip up some delicious fudge tomorrow?

"Is it because the baby has such a sweet tooth?" Nat playfully teased.

"Absolutely," you giggled coyly.

"Whatever the baby wants, I guess," she said as she enveloped you in a warm embrace, then leaned over to plant a tender kiss on your belly.

"Are you ready to drop the baby bomb tonight?" Patting Nat's head affectionately.

“I'm feeling a bit nervous," she confessed, standing upright. "I remember how everyone reacted when they learned about Clint's family. I can't help but wonder how they'll take this news.

“They will embrace their roles as the wonderful aunts and uncles they were meant to be,” you said, grabbing your wife's hand. “Plus, announcing it with the Christmas crackers is a cute idea.”

"I hope so," she whispered before planting a gentle kiss on your lips. 

Can you believe Yelena still hasn't spilled the beans?” you asked.

"Oh, that's because I warned her that if she told anyone, I would make her run with me every morning at 5 am until the baby is born," Natasha explained.

“Well played,” you replied, high-fiving your wife. 

Thank you," she smiled. "Now, come on, let's go and get into the holiday spirit.

*^~^*

As we drove to the compound, the snowflakes delicately blanketed the landscape, creating a picturesque scene of holiday cheer. Each house we passed was adorned with shimmering Christmas lights, casting a warm, enchanting glow upon the neighborhood. I reached out to hold Natasha's hand, our fingers naturally intertwining as I pressed a tender kiss to the back of her hand, savoring the moment.

Upon our arrival at the compound, a rush of inviting warmth enveloped us as you both stepped into the lobby. Natasha brushed the delicate snowflakes from your hair and coat, her caring touch bringing a sense of comfort. Together, you made our way onto the elevator, where the voice of FRIDAY greeted us, creating a tranquil atmosphere as we continued our journey.

“Ladies, Merry Christmas, and welcome to the annual Stark Christmas party!”

“Merry Christmas, FRIDAY. How’s the party so far?” You asked as the elevator hum carried you up to the living quarters.

“The festivities are in full swing. Mr. Stark is treating the guests to a medley of lively and heartwarming Christmas carols,” FRIDAY explained.

"Of course he is," you chuckled.

“He only plays that baby grand after a few drinks," Nat added. "After our month-long covert op in Romania, we flew back, and he decided to mark the occasion with a tipsy performance of ABBA’s Dancing Queen.”

"Ah, I can't believe I missed it!" you groaned, pretending to be disappointed.

As the elevator doors slid open, the vibrant red and green decorations instantly caught your eye, along with the magnificent 12-foot-tall Noble Fir Christmas tree that stood proudly in the heart of the common area. It was evident that Pepper had poured her heart into adorning the tree, carefully draping it in an array of colored lights and delicate silver and gold ornaments. The festive ambiance filled the air, evoking a sense of warmth and holiday cheer.

"Look who's here - the Romanoff's have arrived!" Clint cheered as his kids eagerly ran over to greet you and Natahsa.

As Nate leaped into your wife's embrace, you welcomed Lila and Cooper with warm hugs. Each time you saw the Barton kids, it became apparent that they had grown a little more. Banner and Cho made carrying a child that would be a combination of both your and Natasha's genes possible. Observing the striking resemblance of Clint and Laura's children to their parents, you eagerly anticipated discovering which traits your little plum would inherit from each of you.

Natasha leaned in and planted a kiss on Nathaniel's cheek. "How's my little namesake?" she grinned. "Have you been practicing those punch and kick combinations I taught you?

"Practicing the what?" Laura asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing,” Natasha flashed a sly smile as Nate burst into laughter.

"You both look amazing! The green and red combination is really working for you," Clint said.

Thanks! I have to say that your Christmas sweater is quite lovely. I really dig Rudolph's glowing nose." You don't see that very often!” You teased.

“Hey, the Barton’s are the cream of the crop when it comes to ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Clearly,” Nat stated.

"I’ll take your coats," Cooper graciously offered.

"Wow, thank you. What a gentleman," you said with a wink as you handed him yours and Natasha’s pea coats.

Looking around, you spotted Wanda adding the final decorations to trays of delicious Christmas cookies. You put a hand on Nat’s shoulder and motioned toward the kitchen. She gave you a quick nod as you meandered over to the counter. 

"Wanda, Wanda, Wanda... What do we have here?" you inquired with a sly grin.

Y/N! It's so good to see you," she exclaimed, her arms wrapping around me in one of her signature warm and comforting hugs that I always loved. "This is my parents' famous Christmas cookie recipe," she proudly announced, holding up a worn and stained piece of paper. "I managed to convince Tony and Pepper to let me take charge of the desserts this year. So, we've got batches of freshly baked cookies, the decadent Viennese torte chilling in the fridge, and the pumpkin pie just coming out to cool on the counter.

Wow, you've been keeping busy," you said with a smile. "Is there anything I can do to lend a hand?

"Sure, you can take a cookie and go mingle. I'll be finished in a few minutes," she said, handing you a delightful cookie shaped like Santa. As you bit into it, you were amazed. It was the most delicious cookie you had ever tasted.

"Wow, Wanda! This is fantastic!" you exclaimed excitedly.

"That's exactly why I'll always champion homemade goodies over store-bought ones. Now, come on, go join the fun," she said, playfully shooing you away.

You turned around to see your wife, elegantly positioned by the fireplace, conversing with Steve with a champagne glass. As you began crossing the room, Kate and Lucky, adorned in festive attire, intercepted your path.

"Y/N! It's been ages! How have you been?" Kate exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Hey, Kate! It's great to see you and Lucky enjoying the party," while giving the Golden Retriever some affectionate pets.

"Kate joyfully exclaimed, "Yes, say hello to Santa Paws and Mrs. Claus!" Sadly, we can't seem to find Yelena. She's our dedicated elf." Kate glanced around the room with concern.

Wait, Yelena is actually dressed as an elf?!" Your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, that's fantastic.”

“Yeah, if you see her, will you send her our way? We’re supposed to take the photo for our holiday card tonight,” Kate explained.

"Nothing would make me happier," you said with a smirk and a hand resting on Kate's shoulder.

You bid farewell to the young archer and her loyal pup before rejoining your wife.

"Hey detka," Nat greeted, gently wrapping her arm around your waist.

"Y/N, I was just telling your wife that she needs to find her holiday spirit and come Christmas caroling with us next week," Steve stated.

"Natasha singing? I'm not convinced that would do wonders for the community's morale," you quipped.

Nat giggled at the remark, "Says the woman who performs one-woman tributes to Harry Styles in the shower?"

“Hey" you interrupted, "I'll have you know that my performance of Sign of the Times has been receiving high praise.

A moment later, Tony and Pepper joined your little group, with Morgan walking alongside them.

"Hey there, Romanoffs! You've got to taste this amazing Hot Buttered Rum," Tony exclaimed.

I adore Hot Buttered Rum, but I'm in the mood for some sparkling cider tonight," you explained. "I bet Nat would enjoy some, though. Don't you think, sweetheart?”

"Sure," she said, grabbing the glass from Tony's hand. Steve looked back at you curiously.

As you looked down at Morgan, who was sitting on the cozy ottoman next to the crackling fireplace, you couldn't help but feel a deep connection. Ever since you discovered that you were expecting a baby, your heart has been inexplicably drawn to children in a way you had never experienced before.

"Hey there, cutie!" you exclaimed to the young Stark. "You're looking lovely tonight," as you crouched down to her eye level.

"Thank you so much, Aunt Y/N," she said with a big grin.

“Are you getting excited for Christmas?" you inquired. "You're at the top of Santa's nice list this year!

“Really?!” Morgan squealed.

"Definitely! I have a feeling the man in red will bring you some amazing surprises this year," you winked.

Hey, did you catch that, Daddy? Aunt Y/N just told me that I'm at the very top of the nice list!

“I sure did, squirt. I didn’t realize Aunt Y/N was so tight with St. Nick,” Tony said, eyeing you coyly.

"Of course, we're on a first-name basis. I'm amazed you're not," you said with a smirk, looking at the billionaire. You had a strong bond with Tony, treating him like a brother, but you couldn't resist teasing him.

Trust me, Mrs. Romanoff," Tony said with a smirk. "I'm way closer to Santa than you are.

“Do you have a direct line to the North Pole?” You countered.

"Are you getting milk and cookies flown in from Holland? You know those are his absolute favorites," Tony remarked, giving you a knowing look.

"Alright, that's it," your wife said as she touched your shoulders from behind. "You both know Santa. You both have giant egos. Merry Christmas," Nat mocked. "Come on, Tony, let's grab some hors d'oeuvres for our better halves. I'll be right back, detka," she said, leading the billionaire toward the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but admire Natasha as she walked away. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled at you with all the love in the world. You just about melted right there in front of the fireplace. Snapping out of your love daze, you noticed Pepper grinning at you.

“What?” you asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just can’t help but notice how glowing you look tonight," Pepper said as Morgan pulled her away towards Clint’s kids, while Steve strolled away to join Bucky in conversation with Rhodes.

"Hey, psst... psst!" a voice suddenly whispered.

You suddenly spun around just in time to see a styrofoam snowball hurtling towards your face. With lightning-fast reflexes, you snatched it out of the air smoothly.

"Great snag," a Russian voice exclaimed.

"Yelena, where are you?" You glanced around, but couldn't see my sister-in-law anywhere.

"Over here!" she called out, peeking from behind the towering seven-foot snowman beside the pool table.

"Aww, you look absolutely adorable as an elf," you giggled.

Yelena's voice was barely audible as she uttered, "If you weren't pregnant with my niece or nephew, you would be hanging upside down from the rafters right now."

"Do you know that Kate and Lucky are looking for you?" you asked.

“Why do you think I’m hiding behind the enormous snowman? Kate Bishop forced me to dress in this saccharin American Christmas costume, and now she wants photographic evidence of it.” Yelena said.

"Because she loves you, silly," she said with a smile, arms crossed over her chest.

"Dinner time, detka. Let's go," Natasha called out and then abruptly halted, bursting into laughter at the sight of her sister.

“Tred carefully, sestra,” Yelena threatened. 

Nope, I'm loving this. Isn't this the new mission suit attire?" she said, playfully tapping the bell hanging from her elf hat. "Maybe we can convince Stark to level up this outfit with some Widow Bites action.

“Do you have a death wish?” Yelena sneered.

“Come on, you adorable elf, it’s time for dinner,” you say as you place an arm around your best friend’s shoulder.

*^~^*

As you sat next to your wife at the elegant Astoria Grand Giovani dining table, the soft touch of Natasha's hand sent a gentle warmth through you. You turned to her and caught her shy smile; her cheeks tinged with a rosy, festive blush.

Pepper rose from her seat beside Tony at the head of the lavishly decorated holiday table. With warmth in her voice and a genuine smile, she addressed the gathered guests. "Before we savor this delectable holiday spread, I want to express our deep gratitude for every one of you being here," she said, gently clasping Tony's hand. "Every person in this room understands the preciousness of life, and we cherish every moment together. We want you to know how much we love you, and we wish you all a Merry Christmas."

"Cheers!" Thor exclaimed a few seats away, raising his glass as clinking filled the table.

The festive Christmas feast brought an abundance of delightful dishes to savor. The centerpiece was a perfectly roasted turkey, surrounded by tempting trimmings. Freshly baked bread, creamy mashed potatoes, and garden-fresh vegetables, delicately roasted and complemented with balsamic vinegar, graced the table. Laughter filled the air as the group indulged in cheerful conversation and shared a medley of lighthearted, albeit incredibly corny, jokes.

As the evening progressed, pregnancy mood swings began to intensify. Amidst the gathering, a wave of emotion washed over you as you and your extended family relished the holiday season together.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Carol's eyes held a deep sense of concern as she gazed at you from across the table.

Oh, yeah," you say, dabbing at the corner of your eyes with a napkin. "I'm fine.

"The holidays always tug at her heartstrings," Natasha covered, resting her head on your shoulder.

After your delicious dinner, you assisted Wanda in setting up the dessert spread. Placing the Christmas cookies in the center, you carefully arranged the Viennese torte and the pumpkin pie on either side. As the evening progressed, you passed around coffee and dessert wine; all enjoying the company and the sweet treats.

The room was filled with the cozy warmth of full bellies and slightly sleepy eyes as the group relaxed in the living room. Soft, enchanting Christmas music filled the air, creating the perfect backdrop for the kids' lively discussions about their Christmas wishes and what they hoped Santa would bring them this year.

"Alright, Kate Bishop, let's hurry up with this photo. I can't wait to change into my pajamas," Yelena declared as she reluctantly rose from the couch.

You got it! Stay right there. Come here, Lucky," Kate called out as the dog happily bounded over. "Vision, could you snap the photo for us?

"Of course, Ms. Bishop," he said, confidently taking the Canon EOS R-50 from the archer's hands.

“It is customary to say cheese before a picture, but since it is Christmas time, perhaps you should say mistletoe?” Vision inquired.

"Just take the picture," Yelena said dryly, a hint of impatience in her voice.

Kate's voice echoed through the room, 'Mistletoe!'

"Hey, we're getting one of these cards, right?" you eagerly looked at your wife.

“I had Kate put us down for two,” she smirked.

*^~^*

As darkness descended, you leaned back and rested your tired head on Nat's comforting lap, feeling the soothing sensation of her fingers gently running through your hair.

Natasha glanced at her watch, noting the late hour. "Are you ready to drop the baby bomb?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I'll grab the Christmas crackers," you declared, getting up from the sofa.

"Hey everyone, Y/N and I have a surprise for you," your wife nervously announced as you handed out the gold and silver novelties to the team.

"Christmas crackers? Seriously? I was expecting something a bit more extravagant… Oww!" Tony complained as Pepper playfully pinched his arm.

You smiled nervously, your heart racing as you reached for Natasha. The snap of the festive crackers echoed merrily across the room, adding to the holiday cheer. Clint's eyes lit up as he was the first to reach inside and carefully remove the tiny gift from the cracker. The little round ceramic white ornament, delicately tied to a vibrant red ribbon, appeared in his hand, reflecting the warm glow of the holiday lights. Lila, Cooper, and Nate, their faces filled with excitement and curiosity, eagerly huddled around their dad to get a glimpse as Clint slowly turned the ornament to read the inscription, a moment of joy and togetherness shared by the entire family.

"Uncle Clint?" he read, looking up at Natasha in complete shock.

Sam couldn't believe it and shouted, "No way!"

As Wanda, Carol, and Kate gazed upon their unique ornaments, they couldn't help but shout a collective scream of joy. Each ornament proudly displayed its name, followed by the cherished title of "Aunt."

Thor exclaimed, 'This is joyous news!'

Pepper jumped to her feet and wrapped you in a bear hug, while Laura did the same with Natasha.

“How far along are you?” Wanda asked.

“Almost three months,” Yelena cut in.

"Wait, you knew?! Why didn't you tell me?" Kate yelled, slapping her girlfriend on the arm.

“Because I want to sleep in!” Yelena shouted.

"Nat, I'm thrilled for you," Steve exclaimed, gently kissing her cheek.

Bucky enveloped you in a warm embrace, planting a soft kiss on your head.

"Are you prepared to take on the role of Uncle Bucky?" You lock eyes with him.

His face froze in sheer panic, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You’ll be great, Buck,” you chuckled. 

Bruce and Helen wrapped Natasha in a warm, heartfelt embrace, simultaneously holding her close from both sides.

Helen turned to you with a look of relief. "Now that everyone knows, we can openly discuss your pregnancy," she said. "Have you been taking your prenatal vitamins regularly?

"Don't forget, you've got an appointment on Friday," Bruce said.

Without a second thought, you replied, "Yes and yes," as Natasha leaned in to gently kiss your cheek, followed by another on your belly.

Tony swaggered up to you with his trademark smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Bracing yourself for one of his classic Stark one-liners or a cheeky joke, you were entirely taken off guard when he unexpectedly enveloped you in a comforting and heartfelt hug.

“Congratulations, Romanoff,” Tony said. “It looks like you do know Santa best.” 

[sytoran]

𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ⌇ natasha romanoff

summary: natasha romanoff is your new secretary, and she's willing to help with your every need.

☰ PAIRING: sub!secretary!natasha x dom!ceo!reader

☰ TAGS: smut (18+), office!au, smut, risky sex, strap-on sex, rough sex, slight degradation kink, attempt at humour, cunnilingus, oral sex, overstimulation, cocksucking, spanking, bending natasha over your desk while she's in high heels and nothing else

☰ WARNING: 2.5k words of pure filth

masterlist

you slumped down into your armchair, letting out a groan so heavy it shook your seat with its weight. frustratedly kicking up your feet onto the desk, you tilted your head back, letting your eyelids flutter shut.

that day had been absolute hell, conference after meeting after documents. being the CEO of stark industries was far from heaven-like, when you actually took responsibility. (yes, that was a jab at tony.)

he was an eccentric man, never staying in one place for too long. deciding to travel the world with pepper, tony left you to his devices after reluctant agreement from your part. but then again, earning more money than you could keep track of was something you would never really complain about.

“dr. y/n? are you alright?” 

ah, yes. there only one thing better than being the CEO of the biggest company in the world. it was having a secretary by the name of natasha romanoff.

blood red heels clicked against marble tiling, stopping right before your desk. you eyes trailing up the low-cut, tight-fitting dress she was wearing. your wandering eyes were hardly discreet, trailing over the curve of her hips and the generous inch of cleavage she had decided to show off. 

natasha flushed slightly under your watchful gaze. she would be a liar if she said she didn’t enjoy being admired by you. 

she knew it was wrong, pining after her boss, much less the CEO of such a big company, but she couldn’t help it. you were just so alluring, an enigma of your own accord. 

looking up at her through half-lidded eyes, you sent her a slow smirk. “hey, nat.” 

fuck, that was hot. natasha’s hands on a binder tightened. you had been so demanding today, yelling that your voice grew raspy, commanding and dominating – if natasha was being honest, she wouldn’t mind being yelled at like that by you.

but then again, you were so good to natasha. a soft spot, some might say. an obsession, you called it. 

so maybe it wasn’t so accidental when natasha bent over to pick a pen up, right before your eyes, rounded ass in full view. or maybe during meetings, when the room was dark and she whispered a little too close into your ear. or even after hours, when she offered to give you massages but let her hands linger far too long.

but the way you looked at her sometimes, with the deliciously darkened eyes and the dangerous smile, it made her think her silly crush wasn’t so unrequited after all.

“good afternoon,” she said, giving you a cordial smile – or at least, she attempted to give you one. you could see the way her teeth dug into her plump lip while eyeing you in a black dress-shirt. it made your pride swell a little. or well, maybe a lot.

“been a tough day,” you murmured absent-mindedly, folding up the sleeves of your black shirt to your arms. natasha’s gaze burned holes into your forearms, then your partially unbuttoned shirt, then to your lopsided grin.

caught.

you chose not to respond to that, shifting in your seat to sift through some papers, leaving natasha to bask in her adorable embarrassment. oh, you were obviously showing off for natasha, but who could blame you? she was too good to be true. 

“is there anything i could do to help?”

natasha’s question had barely left her lips before your expression morphed into the one she had imprinted into every inch of her brain. 

the one where your eyes narrowed and digressed into hues of jet black. the way your lips curved, tongue darting to wetten dry lips. the one where you looked like you wanted to devour her. 

the one that she had spent countless hours dreaming of with two fingers shoved up her pussy, in the dark of the night, where her secrets got locked up with a gold key.

“i can think of some ways,” your murmured, under your breath, just loud enough for natasha to hear. the reaction was almost immediate, the redhead shifting her legs a little bit closer, thighs pressing together. god, she was so wet.

“oh,” she whispered, almost a whimper. you swallowed at that divine sound, throat suddenly running dry.

just as you were about to make your move properly, natasha’s phone began buzzing with the ringtone of a call. then the moment was gone as quick as it came. your secretary fumbled for her phone, almost dropping it once. 

“bruce needs some help with the project of JARVIS.” natasha tells you quickly as she ends the call, her cheeks flushed a rosy red that quite matched her hair. "i- i'll go now."

natasha turns haphazardly, not even waiting for your response before moving her feet to the door. fuck, why was she so aroused? she was probably just imagining it, of the possibility that you wanted her as well.

the redhead moved to grip the door metal, the cold metal feeling foreign in shaky hands.

but then cold fingertips were suddenly tracing along the back of her bare arms, up and down, sending tingles all through her body.

natasha gasped, not daring to turn around. god, those fingers were sinful.

"stay," you murmured quietly, right up against her ear. your secretary tensed up in your arms, knees bumping against the door. she could've buckled, there and then, folded right into your arms.

"unless i am reading this situation wrong, then you can take your leave, ms. romanoff,” you clarified with a husk in your voice, deft fingers leaving her hot skin for a moment. even those mere seconds without your touch left natasha feeling empty. 

two could play at this game.

"i don't know, your perception skills have always been quite good," natasha murmured in response, almost a purr, as she pushed back up against you. you could feel the curve of her rounded ass against your crotch, and it only made you crave her more.

the edges of your lips twisted upwards into a devilish smirk, and your hands dug into her hips so hard it was sure to leave bruises. "let me hear it," you breathed, hands exploring the area of her lower stomach.

"shit," the curse fell from natasha's lips in a hasty breath right before she could answer you, a snarky remark dying on the tip of her tongue. you had slotted your leg between her thighs, pressing right up against the wetness of her sex.

"let me hear you say it," you repeated, the lower decibels of your voice sending a jolt of arousal straight to her core, giving her a shallow thrust to temporarily appease her needs.

"hear me say what, daddy?" 

the moment those sinful words left her lips, natasha wanted to take it all back. god, why had she been so forward? why would she-

before natasha could finish the walk of shame down memory lane, you had let out a near animalistic groan, twisting her around and pushing your oh so beautiful secretary up against the wall.

pinning her wrists up against the wall with a singular hand, a long, steamy moan escaped natasha's mouth. you tilted your head to kiss her with a passion you didn't know you harboured.

the first kiss was ebb and flow, your bodies rocking like the gradual descent of a wave. it was a smoldering heat, not quite out of control, but just enough to make the both of you crave more.

the second kiss was harder, with natasha finally tugging onto the collar of your dress shirt, dragging you impossibly close. you licked and sucked at the sides of her open mouth.

the third kiss had natasha falling apart. you properly pushed her up against the wall, never ceasing to kiss her for all it was worth. your left hand tightened on her wrists and the other gripped her hip so hard it could bruise. 

and the fourth kiss, well, there wasn't a fourth kiss. because you had already lifted natasha off her feet by then, roughly setting down onto your desk.

"wait, wait," natasha breathed, pulling away from your wandering hands with a shaky exhale. "we should lock the door."

"right, right," you huffed, listening to her nonetheless. it was probably a bad idea to bend your secretary over the desk when anyone could walk by at a given time. 

when you turned back from closing the door, your jaw quite literally dropped. there natasha was, bent over your desk with paperwork pushed to the side, supple ass in your direct line of vision.

she turned back to look at you with a teasing smirk, hiking up the end of her scandalously short dress. you caught a flash of black lace.

"i'm waiting," she murmured, shifting her legs open wider. you stepped closer, drawing a gasp from natasha as you ran your hands over her ass.

"...i know, doll. you're dripping."

suddenly slapping the curve of her ass, natasha cried out, driving her hips back to reach you once again. you denied her of that particular pleasure, instead pushing the lingerie to the side and spanking her again.

purplish hues of red blossomed upon her pale skin. you did it again. 

natasha moaned out your name, begging for you to touch her properly. you did it again. 

you had a lot of fun watching the confident woman succumb to a mess of frenetic moans and incoherent whines. so you did it again.

by the time you were satisfied with spanking natasha, there wasn't an inch of skin left unblemished, all flushed and crimson from your ministrations.

"fuck, just touch me already." natasha whined, undulating her lower half against the tent of a strap in your pants. 

"so impatient," you commented teasingly, eyes darkening several hues when you noted the wet spot on her panties. "you're so naughty, wearing lingerie to work. you've wanted this, mhm?" 

the words died on her tongue when you thrust your hips forward, the thick strap entering her sodden pussy.

"please!" pretty mewls fell from natasha's mouth as you fucked into her, gripping at her sides with sprawled hands.

in no time at all, natasha was cumming all over your strap, dripping down her thighs. she had been stimulated by the spanking already, your actions only bringing her more arousal.

"cum already, pretty girl? so greedy," you groaned, fucking her thourgh her orgasm. using your teeth to pull down the zipper of her dress, natasha gasped at the cold air making contact with her heated skin.

you let your hands explore her body, going to grasp at natasha's tits. toying at her nipples seemed to be too much for her, the redhead spasming under you, gasps and whimpers escaping her mouth.

fuck, natasha could already feel another orgasm building up.

she had wanted this for so long, for you to rail her until she couldn't think, in your very office, over the very one you were fucking her into.

you forcefully pushed her back into the glass counter, her pebbled nipples being stimulated to no end. when you gave a particularly hard thrust, a lewd moan sounded from natasha, echoing around the confines of the room.

"hush, baby." you murmured, giving her two fingers to suck on. "don't wanna let everyone hear you, mhm?" your secretary nodded through bleary eyes, warm tongue tracing over your fingers.

just as natasha was about to cum, her phone that was in her pocket started ringing again.

"answer it," you said after two rings. even without facing natasha, you knew she was wearing that adorably sulky expression.

"don't wanna," natasha whined, still trying to chase the fragments of her second orgasm that were fading away. you frowned at her disobedience.

"answer it or i'll take out my cock."

the threat left natasha clenching even harder around you, which in turn only made you push the cock an inch further. "don't you dare stop," natasha gasped, hands reaching out behind to grab you.

deciding you had enough of her back-talk, you simply reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone and answering it for her.

"hey, nat? are you almost there? you told me you would come." bruce's voice crackled over the static of the call.

natasha's mortified expression quickly morphed into one of pleasure when you traced a finger over her glistening folds.

'you will be cumming,' you mouthed to your secretary with a shit-eating grin, as she rolled her eyes at you.

propping her up onto the desk, natasha was fully naked, save for her high heels, long legs hanging off the edge of the table. you had entrapped her in your arms, palms resting on either side of her body, still fully-clothed and standing.

"uh, nat? you there?"

you pressed the speakerphone next to her mouth, before gently stroking her clit. natasha bit back a moan, eyes accusing yet submissive.

"y-yeah," natasha managed to say somewhat steadily. then she fumbled. "i'll be there in a sex- sec! i'll be there in a sec,"

you bit back a chortle, distracting yourself by spreading her legs and moving to suck hickeys onto her thigh. natasha tried to push your head away, but she didn't really deny your touches.

"uhh okay, are you sick? you sound unwell."

natasha wasn't even half-listening at this point, eyes trained onto your mouth that was leaivng kisses higher and higher up her thigh. so close, yet so far.

you gave her a soft lick mid-thigh, and natasha nearly fell apart there and then.

"i'm - oh, fuck!" natasha trailed off into an airy moan when you delved your tongue into her folds, far too impatient.

"sorry, sorry! i'm- i saw a bug- it's very - jesus christ, it's moving very fast. bugs are pieces of shits who have no manners - ah! - you know what, i'll call you back later! bye!"

natasha was the one to break first, desperately pressing the 'end call' button. you smirked.

"oh, so i'm a bug now? can bugs make you scr-"

before you knew it, natasha was pulling you in to taste her further in. your tongue explored her warm cavern, lapping at all the juices she left in your wake.

when you found that one spot, it was then that her overstimulated cunt met its climax, the orgasm taking over a hold of her body in spasms of pleasure.

you shoved two fingers into natasha's open mouth to shut her up as she drooled, mouth dumbly sucking. her screams were muted into a blabbering mess of pleasured sighs.

before your secretary could even properly come down from her kaleidoscopic high, a knock on the door captured your attentions within a matter of seconds.

your eyes locked with natasha's, and fear flashed in hers. but all you did was move to sit at your desk, with an eerie calmness, hand hovering over the automatic sensor to unlock the door.

natasha spluttered as you gestured for her to crawl under your desk with a smirk of sinful delights. 

so when one of your co-workers walked into your office with a file report in hand, they were blissfully unbeknownst to that ever-willing secretary of yours, hidden under the desk, quietly sucking on your cock once again.

taglist: @gayestfeels26 / part 2 / masterlist

if you want to be added to my taglist, feel free leave a comment or an ask. as always, thanks for reading :)

[the-swift-escape]

A Fine Team

Part 1 of (N/A)

Summary: The reader and Loki are sent on a mission at an art gallery, their objective is to pose as husband and wife to gain entry into a hydra auction. The reader has been falling for their friend for some time now and doesn’t think that he could ever feel the same.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Author’s Note: I’m thinking of making this a multi-part fanfic, not sure how long but I have a few ideas for the plot. I’ve never written any fan fictions like this before and I’m mostly trying to get back into the groove of writing again.

Word Count: 3,422

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The art gallery is filled with a warm glow of light. The walls are paneled with a dark wood and the floor is a shining marble that echoes with each step of heeled feet. There’s low classical music playing but no one is dancing. The guests are either too occupied by the exhibition or conversation with their peers. If you didn’t know better you wouldn’t even suspect anything abnormal about this event. Just a bunch of old money socialites viewing art they’re hoping to bid for in the auction later tonight.

Unfortunately for you, this is a mission, not a social event. Loki is not your date, holding you close against him as you view a landscape piece. He’s not whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s observing the people around you, and he’s playing a part. He is your mission partner, not a lovesick newlywed. He is your friend, nothing more. When you think about the press of his hand against your lower back and his lips close to your ear, your heart clenches. It feels like the most exhilarating torture for him to be so close yet so far. He has no idea how hard it is to suppress the blush rising to your cheeks and you want to keep it that way so instead you watch an older man in a dark red suit jacket look at his watch.

“There he is, it’s almost time for the auction. Don’t lose sights,” you whisper, pulling your lips into a smile as you turn toward Loki.

“He couldn’t be more obvious if he tried,” Loki says while pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and your breath hitches and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“You guys are disgusting, I can’t believe I have to watch this,” Tony’s voice comes through your ear pieces.

Loki rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Would you rather me hold a knife to her throat, Stark? Would that be more in character?”

“For you? Absolutely,” Tony says pointedly.

You clear your throat.

“If you two are done having your dick measuring contest, the target’s moving,” You whisper harshly.

The man in the red suit goes to the back of the gallery and flashes his watch to a young bouncer. He looks at him with an over polite smile. He’s nervous, this must be the new kid that Hydra set to work this event. Fury was right, they didn’t see the avengers as a threat. To be fair, the intel was fresh and the event was just arranged a few days ago. They just hadn’t checked the museum staff for any spies yet.

Nat looks at you subtly from the bar as she abandons her spot behind the counter and heads toward the back room. Her hair is dyed a dark black and is swept into a braid. She has a completely different face, courtesy of stark industries, but she moves with the same practiced ease of Natasha. She touches the bouncer’s arm and lean towards him. His eyes go wide and he hastily steps aside and follows her past the velvet rope. When they turn the corner you hear a door close through her mic and then you hear a few grunts and you swear you hear a sharp cracking sound.

“You’re all good, auction is about to start,” Nat says her tone calm.

“You’re brillant, Nat,” You shake your head in awe and hold onto Loki’s arm.

His suit is a dark green. The material cool to touch and fitting across his arms. His dark hair is swept back into an elegant loose bun. His face is at ease and you feel your heart stutter as his green eyes sparkle with the chandelier light overhead. You’re wearing a long gown the same color as his suit, the neckline is revealing but not too revealing to warrant any unnecessary glances. The thin straps on your shoulders are beaded with gold and the details on your bodice are dripped in gold, to match his cufflinks. He insisted on your outfits matching perfectly. ‘To sell the illusion’, he said.

“You look lovely, my dear wife,” He says as you pass a small group of lower hydra operatives.

“I’d hope so, I picked it out just for you. Now that we’re married it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to impress you,” You laugh airily as the two of you approach the now clear hallway.

You make a show of batting your eyes at the man beside you as a few of the operatives turn to look at the two of you. Loki wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close, giving you a featherlight kiss on your forehead. When you turn the corner down a darker hall you both stop and press your backs against the wall, waiting to hear footsteps. None follow and you relax against the wall and look over to see Loki looking at you with a wolfish grin.

“You play this part beautifully, darling.”

You roll your eyes at him, trying to hide the start of a smile on your lips.

“You can turn it down a notch, Loki, all these rooms are sound proof according to the blueprints we got from Fury. No one is here to hear your flirting-“

“Except for us, Reindeer Games, you’re making me sick over here,” Tony complains and you can’t help but laugh.

“Careful, Loki, y/n may have to kick your ass if you get too frisky. This is a mission after all, what would Fury say?”

Nat’s smirk is evident in her words. You wish you could stop the hope from rising in your chest when Loki doesn’t seem too interested in defending himself. But then it’s crushed just as fast and you see his smile drop and he raises one eyebrow.

“I’m not flirting, I’m staying in character. There’s a difference. I suppose that’s why I was chosen for this mission over you, Stark. I’m simply more professional.”

“Yeah that’s the reason, definitely not the fact that I’m an extremely famous billionaire, philanthropist and the owner of one of the tallest buildings in New York. Which just so happens to have my name on it. But you’re right, Rock of Ages-“

You hear a door open down the hall.

“Will you two shut up,” you hiss.

You look at your diamond encrusted watch. They must have just got done appraising the piece you’re here for. You see a supply closet out of the corner of your eye and grab Loki’s wrist and pull him silently into it, turning your ear piece on mute. The room is cramped, the space taken up by cleaning products and a rack of boxes and towels. You can’t help but press Loki against the door as you hold your hand over his mouth. Your heart is racing. It sounds like there’s about five men in the hall. Stopped right in front of the closet door. In the small glimpse of light peaking through the door from the hallway you see Loki’s eyes shut tightly, his eyebrows furrowed.

You listen in on their conversation but it’s mostly small talk. All they say that rouses any suspicion is that they’re meeting at a hotel a few months from now. As their steps echo down the hall they say their goodbyes. Hail Hydra.

You let your head fall against Loki’s chest and take your hand from his mouth. He reaches up to his ear as he breathes heavily.

“Darling, if you wanted to get me alone, I could’ve arranged that much earlier.”

His voice is as smooth as silk, if a little breathless. You try to chuckle but you feel like floating. Your skin pricks as you look up and realize how close the two of you are.

“If I wanted you alone, Laufeyson, it would have already happened,” You counter, trying to slip into your usual banter.

It’s harder when it’s like this. When it’s so close to the truth but it just isn’t. You want him, but you know there’s no way he’d have you.

Loki opens his mouth to reply, smirking, but he stops short. You’re close enough to hear the muffled noise from his ear piece and Loki clears his throat when you pull away to turn the volume up. You nod at him and he opens the door to the closet.

“Hello? Am I just talking to myself here?”

“No, Tony, sorry. Had to focus, heading to the auction room now,” You respond.

Loki offers his arm and you take it, avoiding his eyes in hopes of just appearing focused. The two of you reach the auction room and slip in unnoticed. You find the place marker with your aliases and your paddle number and take your seat in the back.

The auctioneer hasn’t gotten to your item yet but you pretend to be interested and whisper to each other when it’s time for Loki to put his paddle up. You bid low enough to lose but high enough to where you drive the price up on some of the smaller items. An hour or so passes with you and Loki waiting to see the painting you came here for. Every time he raised the paddle he’d steal a glance at you, pleased with how frustrated some of the older attendees sounded when they had to place a higher bid.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how far he’s come since the battle of New York. You were one of the only people that was able to connect the fact that Loki’s eyes were the same color as Clint’s when he was being mind controlled. Before Loki ever joined you’d brought it up multiple times but no one ever really took it seriously. After he arrived at the tower, and he opened up more, in his own ways he confirmed that your theory was correct. He hasn’t told anyone what happened that lead him to that point, though. Luckily, he’s adjusted pretty well and if some of the avengers still don’t like them- they have a begrudging respect for him. Loki and Bucky bonded and formed an interesting friendship, with what Loki has told you it seems that they’ve helped each other readjust to freedom in a way. Wanda has also helped Loki open up more, they tend to spend some time every few weeks training with their magic. Clint still keeps his distance but that’s not a scar that’s going to heal quickly, you don’t think.

Loki tears you from your thoughts, tapping the inside of your right wrist. He’s staring straight at the painting you’re here for. It’s a 1940s battlefield landscape. But you’re not here because of the art itself, you’re here for what’s sewn into the canvas. You know that Tony is listening in as the auctioneer announces the piece.

“Showtime, newly weds,” Tony comments.

According to Fury’s intel there’s a note with coordinates to a hidden hydra base that has been thought to be inactive since just after the war. There’s been whispers of a resurgence of the winter soldier program in a top secret location. This might be the key to finding the headquarters.

Loki waits for a few people to bid before placing his first one in. If you can get your hands on this painting it could completely destroy the last of the winter soldier program, if you don’t win then this mission will be a hell of a lot more difficult. He puts his paddle up again and rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers dipping just inside of the dress’ side slit. He keeps his face straight and you assume someone’s looking but you can’t take your eyes off his hand. Your breath is shallow but you try to focus, giving his hand a pat when you think he should bid.

The general protocol is that the highest bidders are given directions to a safe house where they can make the exchange. Hydra transports the item there in heavily guarded vehicles. Which the team will be tracking via the Quinjet. You feel your knives strapped to your thigh, all night you’ve been itching for a fight. Maybe it’s the pent up frustration from your ruse or just the fact that you’ve been surrounded by hydra agents all night. It feels like torture to blend in with them but it’s honestly not even close to being one of the most difficult missions you’ve gone on. It’s tame in comparison to most, little combat and little interaction with the enemy. The hardest part is keeping your heart in check when Loki’s touching you like that. You’re starting to realize how incredibly distracting it can be.

“Sold to number twenty-five!”

The auctioneer announces the winner and you realize it’s not you.

“Shit.”

“What’s up, (y/n)? Did you get it or not?” Tony pries.

“They cut the bidding short. Two men came in and delivered a note to the auctioneer,” Loki explains.

You didn’t even notice. How did that happen?

“It must’ve been rigged, get out of there, we’ll see you at the jet.”

You slip your hand into Loki’s, the cold of his fake wedding band nipping at your skin.

“Let’s go, honey. I have a little surprise for you back at home,” You tease seductively.

His green eyes cut to yours, you swear that for a moment there’s a flash of something there. You just can’t quite put a name to it. Loki’s tongue brushes over his lower lip, bringing your hand up. He leaves a lingering kiss on your matching ring. The look in his eye paired with the graze of his mouth on your skin sends a strike of electricity through your veins. He gets up, leading you to the door.

“Shall we?” He makes a show of letting you exit first after you exchange the customary hail hydras with the organizer and his bodyguards.

When you get into the hall the two of you pick up your pace.

“Now, what?” You hiss at Loki.

He grins mischievously.

“Now, darling, we have some fun.”

You can tell he’s thinking what you’ve been feeling, this has been too easy. Now, at least, it’s getting interesting. You really wish you had a body suit under this dress but maybe if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it to the jet before you have to do any real damage. You get instruction from Tony to take a few turns down the hall to a back exit that leads to an alley closer to the meeting point.

The night air is breezy and goosebumps form on your arms. The stars are bright and the moon is little more than a sliver. Your heels echo softly on the pavement as you walk. Loki is close enough to where your hands brush once in a while as you walk. Each time it happens you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit. There’s something magnetic about Loki, and most might say it’s because he’s a god or because he’s like a predator. Coaxing his prey into a false security, but you don’t see him that way. You see a man, a god, that has been through awful things. Like anyone else, he has struggled. He is hard to crack but when you’re able to see what’s underneath the calculating front he puts up, he’s not that different from the rest of the team.

“You did good in there, Laufeyson, I think you’re getting the hang of this whole avenger thing,” you bump his shoulder with yours, “who knows, maybe you’ve found your glorious purpose.”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t think that the other avengers share that sentiment.”

Your chest pangs, because it’s true.

Then his face hardens, glancing back the way you came. You hear some low voices cutting through the night and before you can react, Loki is grabbing you by the waist. He’s spinning you around and the world is tilting on its axis. You close your eyes thinking something bad is about to happen.

Your back hits the wall and one of his hands is on your waist, the other supporting your head, guiding it to back gently. When you open your eyes he’s looking at you and he silently shushes you. Loki leans in close to you and his nose is brushing yours and his gaze drops to your lips. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your skin is tingling. He’s so close and his breath smells like whiskey. His cologne is coating the air between you and it smells like the forest and it’s warm and welcoming and it’s so hard to pretend like you’re not in love with him when he’s so close.

“You look truly divine,” He breathes.

“You don’t mean that,” You whisper back, shaking your head.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer and you screw your eyes shut. You have no idea what to do now that you’ve lost contact with the others and you can’t think straight. Loki always leaves your mind cloudy and usually it doesn’t effect your mission but you’ve never been in such a compromising position. He’s intoxicating and it takes all your willpower not to lean into him further. Not to press your lips to his or wrap your arms around his neck.

“Yes,” he leans a fraction closer, “I do.”

Then he’s pressing you further into the bricks and his fingers are brushing against your cheekbone. You open your eyes and he looks at you and his pupils are blown wide. Then he kisses you and it’s so soft. He’s kissing you like you’re going to disappear, like you’re made of glass. It’s fragile and you can tell he’s braced for rejection and even though you’re terrified that this is all for the mission somehow you melt into the kiss. A low noise is pulled from him as you slide your hands through his hair, it falls from its slicked back bun and the strands are falling against your cheek. The moment is everything you’ve ever dreamed it would be and still it’s so much better.

The whole world is slipping away and you ears are buzzing and you realize you need to breathe. You pull back, leaning your head back toward the cool night air and then his lips are on your neck and you feel weightless.

“Believe me, (y/n),” he whispers against your skin, his breath cool, “I could never lie to you.”

The sound of your name makes you whimper as his lips move further and further down. The footsteps are long gone, you realize. You should go, both of you should go meet the others at the rendezvous point. But you can’t move, it’s like you’re stuck to the spot and all you can focus on is this, this mischievous god against you and how his hands are chilling your skin and setting it on fire all at once. The way his tie has come slightly loose and how his cheeks are reddened. He’s disheveled and you never thought it would be for you, because of you.

“Loki-“ You choke out.

“(Y/n), come in. Can you hear us? Where are you, agent?” Steve’s voice breaks through the static in your ear piece.

Loki pulls back abruptly, the voice of your captain breaking through the moment. His eyes are wide as he looks at you and your heart sinks. He regrets it. You just lost your best friend. You sober up quickly and slip from Loki’s grasp and maneuver around him, looking down the alleyway.

“I hear you, Cap. We’re not too far from the museum, had to take a detour. On our way now.”

“We got eyes on the truck, good work you two, you make a fine team.”

You look at Loki for a second. You can’t read his expression as he straightens his tie and fixes his hair. He wipes his lips, erasing all the evidence of what happened just like that. As if it never happened, couldn’t happen. Not with you, at least. You sigh.

“Yeah, I guess we do.”

In silence you head to the rendezvous point. The tension thick between you. Maybe all he’ll ever be is your partner. Maybe you were naive to think that it could seriously be more. It was just the heat of the moment and it should have never gotten that far. Maybe you could learn to live with that.

[aurumacadicus]

I think it would be funny if Tony was awkward around tall women and everyone thinks it's because he's insecure about his own height but really he's just overwhelmed with how attracted he is to them and he's trying to focus on being normal. (It is not working.)

The first time Pepper wears heels higher than an inch Tony whimpers when he looks up at her and that's when it clicks and she's like 'oh fuck. I've gotta desensitize him or any woman taller than him is gonna end up with his company.' (It doesn't fucking work. He sees a tall woman and immediately heart-eyes at her. Pepper starts wearing higher heels to keep his eyes on her.) ((Pepper ends up in bed with him and she is absolutely stunned that it all led to this. But more stunned that she's even surprised somehow? Oh well.))

[baby-alien11]

Blurb: Abigail Premiere (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

taglist (open): @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @camiesully @ethanlandryluver @nowitsmissing @aliciacat20 @gabbylovesreading @nikfigueiredo @itsaaliyah2

A/N: this was inspired by the video of some of the Scream cast going to see Abigail and support Melissa, hope you like it

Ever since Melissa unjustified firing from the Scream franchise for speaking against the genocide in Gaza, your support and love for your half fictional sister increased even more, along side her new projects, specially Abigail since she talked with you about the movie a lot (without spoilers), and when the trailer dropped your excitement for the movie was bigger

When the premiere day of Abigail arrived, some people of the cast including your dad, Matthew, Mason, Tony, Dylan, Liana, Jack and you, and since you love to coordinate your outfits with the ocassion, you chose to wear a long sleeved dress, along with black high heels, your Baby Vamp ring, a black clutch, your hair straightened, a glittery smokey eye make up and red lip gloss

Arriving at the event, none of you wanted to take the attention from the main cast, all of you went direct to the teather, and grab something to eat and drink during the movie

"I can't wait to see the movie", you smiled grabbing your popcorn and drinks, "And I really hope it makes more money than any Spyglass movie"

"Specially Scream 7", Jack mentioned

"Specially that, and I can't believe they offered me to be head of the VFX make up, like, the audacity"

"They were fools thinking you were going to accept it"

"Besides it ended good with the last one, except for the part where you die"

"So you don't care that Ethan would go around killing everyone?", Jack joked knowing your answer

"Absolutely no, Ethan defender for life, it's a Ghostface loyalty, the Ghostface princess needs her Ghostface prince"

"Kids, come on!", Matthew exclaimed from the entrance of the cinema, "We don't want to sit apart from each other"

"We're coming!", you exclaimed back, "I'm bitting my tongue just because I don't want him to block me again on insta"

"It would be like the third time"

"Yeah, and I don't want that"

Entering the cinema both of you spotted the Scream family group sitting with them in the two seats they guarded, and also Skeet with your purse who took it while you were getting the snacks; when the cast went on stage to say a few words about the movie, you filmed the entire thing and cheered the most when Melissa spoke

And at the end, it become one of your favorite scary movies and also gave it five stars in letterboxd

"I'm so fucking proud of you", you said to Melissa after the movie while hugging her, "And I love the movie, like every other project you've been"

"Having your support means a lot to me", Melissa responded, "And I can't believe you watched the entire Club de Cuervos and in spanish with english subtitles"

"I mean, you are in there, and it helped me with my spanish"

"Tell me a phrase you learned"

"Me vale madres", you said with a bit broken spanish

"Okay, let's go to meet Alisha"

"Yes, Matilda's crossover", you exclaimed since you played that character in one of your school plays and she played it in the musical adaptation

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Heir and The Spare - Part 1: "Familial and Strangers"

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary: Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heaviest is the head that was always second best.

The Heir and The Spare Chapter List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

Your nails impatiently thrum against the hard leather of the common room's chairs.

You check your watch again.

23 minutes late. 23 minutes of time and money. 23 minutes he could hold over your head. 23 minutes of power.

Power was all that existed in your relationship with Tony. His constant grabs for power. His need to remind you that you would always be second to him. It was the only language either of you spoke.

Dramatic, but true.

The whole room was so very Tony Stark. Ostentatious. Ultra modern. A nose dive into the future. And not a person in sight. No doubt Tony sent all his precious team mates away. How convenient. Heaven forbid any of them actually meet you.

You have half a mind to leave. You know Tony. This whole waiting game was one big power move to prove that he could summon you and you would appear. You shouldn't have come in the first place.

He didn't have the courtesy to call you, not that you would've answered in the first place. No, he sent Happy to tell you that he needed to speak to you. You weren't invited. You were summoned.

And now, he was making you wait. Just to prove that he could.

You've half convinced yourself to leave when an unfamiliar man stands in the very corner of your peripheral. He meekly waves, clearing his throat, "Um... excuse me, can I help you?"

With a bored, borderline unimpressed look, your eyes flicker up, "No."

He clears his throat again, that polite smile never faltering as he rubs the back of his neck, "Um, well, ma'am, this floor is closed off to the public. We don't allow Stark Industry guests or visitors up here."

You look up at him again with the most polite smile you can muster, "It's fine."

"It's not, ma'am," he insists. "It's a security issue."

You offer another, tighter smile, but patience was never your strong suit. "I'm waiting for Tony. It's fine."

You almost feel bad for your curt tone, it's not this stranger's fault for your terrible mood. It's Tony's.

"Well, the thing is, Tony is well aware of the protocol. It's his building after all."

You snort at the statement. Tony's building. Even if it weren't for the way the building stuck out like a sore thumb on the New York skyline, the Stark name in bright lights, the whole building screams Tony Stark. Stark Tower makes your head hurt as much as Tony Stark himself.

You resent every second you're in the building.

You hate being here as much as Steve Rogers hates you being here.

You tilt your head, quirking an eyebrow at the man, "Do you just take care of imagined security threats or is there something you actually do here?"

Steve quirks an eyebrow back at you, resting his hands on his hips with a bemused smirk, "I never said you were a security threat, a security breach, absolutely."

"And how did you deduce this?"

"A strange, mild mannered yet very attractive woman is sitting in a restricted area of Stark Tower. I, someone who does have authorization approach, and said women tries to distract me -"

"Is it working?"

"What?"

"Am I distracting you? Keeping you from going about your day? What exactly is it about me that you find distracting?"

"Well, you're very - hold on a minute, you just did it again," Steve points out with a wry grin.

"The way I see it, Mr. Rogers-" You stand up out of your chair, heels clicking onto the sleek marble floors of Stark Tower.

"How did you -"

"You have two options." You hold up two fingers, spelling it out for Steve. "You can go and get Tony and let him know that I'm sitting here waiting for him or you can sit here with me until Tony pulls his head out of his ass and waltzes out of his office - just to make sure I'm truly not the security threat you imagine. Your choice."

"Or, third option, I can call security and have you removed," Steve challenges you, a triumphant smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You return the smirk, resting on the arm of the leather couch. "You can certainly try."

He chortles, "Are you always this stubborn?"

"I prefer insistent. And yes, I am." You plant your hands on either side of you, teasingly shrugging your shoulders. "If I'm bothering you so much, why don't you remove me yourself?"

"I would never put my hands on a woman, and I never said you were bothering me, I only said that you're not allowed to be up here."

"I've given you your options. Take your pick."

The elevator dings before Steve can choose either option. Happy steps out of the elevator, looking like his normal frantic self.

Steve sighs in relief as Happy bustles over in your direction, "Happy, can you let security know that there's an unauthorized person in our residential quarters?"

You look over your shoulder at Happy, "Happy, you can let security know they aren't needed. Mr. Rogers is currently having a senior moment."

"Got it," Happy nods, immediately agreeing with you. "Have you -"

"What?" Steve guffaws, "Happy, don't -"

"You're a lot less charming in person," you blithely observe. "Has anyone told you that?"

"Have you talked to Tony yet?" Happy asks you. "Please, tell me he didn't leave you here waiting this whole time."

"Not yet," you scoff, looking down at your watch. 31 minutes late. "He's been more than content to keep me waiting here with Mr. Rogers as my companion."

"I'm not your -"

"Ah, speak of the devil and he shall come," you mutter, rolling your eyes as Tony strolls through the common room as though he's not over 30 minutes late to your meeting. "Brother."

"Sister," Tony coldly greets you from a distance.

"Sister?" Steve squawks. There is no warmth in the greeting. If Steve didn't know any better, he would say that a frost entered the room when Tony did.

"30 minutes late, Anthony," you chastise. "Maybe I should get you a watch for Christmas."

"Really? I thought you were too busy stealing Christmas from Whoville to celebrate," Tony quips.

You purse your lips at Tony, folding your arms expectantly, "To what do I owe the displeasure, Tony?"

"Maybe I've just missed that sparkling personality of yours," Tony sarcastically retorts.

"Jealous that actually I have one?"

"I'm so confused," Steve whispers, mostly to himself.

"Happy, fill in Capsicle, we have some business to attend to," Tony instructs, wasting no time before turning on his heels and heading to the conference room.

"On it. Do I need to call Pepper to mediate?" Happy calls after you. He shakes his head with a furrowed brow like the answer is obvious. He mutters to himself, "Never mind, I know the answer to that."

"What just happened?"

"You just witnessed the eighth wonder of the world, the warm and loving relationship of the Stark siblings." Happy claps a hand over Steve's shoulder, dialing Pepper's number with the other hand. "Consider yourself lucky to have come out unscathed."

"The Stark siblings? Since when are there two of them?"

"Sometime after you went into the ice but before you came out," Happy sarcastically replies. He shakes his head, taking a moment to fix his suit as he looks at Steve with an apologetic glance, "Sorry, their stress becomes my stress and stress is one of their favorite pass times."

"Uh..." Steve awkwardly lilts.

"Look, they aren't exactly on good terms."

"They're siblings," Steve chortles, dissmively rolling his eyes. "All families fight, Happy."

"There's a reason Tony doesn't talk about her. Just like there's a reason that Miss Stark doesn't come here."

"So they got into a fight, they'll make up eventually."

"They got into a fight two decades ago. I wouldn't hold my breath." Happy turns on his heels, pacing back and forth as he dials Pepper's office. "And I strongly suggest that you don't mention that topic to either of them. It's a bit of a touchy subject."

"I'm still confused."

"Tony Stark," Happy begins, dialing Pepper again. "Oldest child of Howard and Maria Stark. And a whopping 12 years younger is the youngest Stark, the second child and first daughter of Howard and Maria Stark. And I feel like I need to say this again because I don't think it sunk in the first time, this should not be brought up to Miss Stark because this is a very sensitive subject."

"Why?"

"Pepper, please pick up the phone. The last time they were left in a room alone, I was plucking shards of glass and splinters from my suit for a week," Happy rambles into the phone. He drops the phone with an aggressively exasperated groan, "As you can probably tell, they don't exactly have the closest or warmest or not hostile sibling bond."

"I'm still confused on the why?"

"I feel like you're not hearing the very sensitive subject of it all."

Steve apologetically winces, "Sorry."

"Let me offer you some advice, whatever you do, whatever superhero compulsions you may have, don't get involved. Not even a little bit. I promise you, nothing good comes from getting between those two."

"Alright, I'm hearing you," Steve acquiesces, raising his hands in defeat. 

"Are you?" Happy questions. "Because I am strongly considering going to find a football helmet before I walk into that room. Let's not add a super soldier to that mix."

"I'm hearing you."

If only he had actually listened.

Next Chapter AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Steve Rogers Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[fetusgooseandjuice]

Follow My Lead

Pairings: Shuri Udaku x fem!reader

Summary: Shuri was invited to a party at the Avenegrs compound to thank her for her help. But, things go downhill after a drive-by shooting. Despite your girlfriend trying to protect you, you still get hurt.

Word Count: 2,945

Warnings: Shooting | Mentions of blood

Shuri's POV:

"You almost ready, love?" I called out from the bedroom.

"Yeah one second!" I heard her respond from the bathroom.

Okoye, Nakia, and I were invited to a formal party at the Avengers compound to thank us for our help during a mission that went sideways a few weeks ago.

They were outnumbered, so they contacted Wakanda, pleading for assistance in the fight. The threat was eliminated and they were grateful for our help.

But I would never go to an event like this without my pride and joy, Y/N. I told her about the invite and asked her to be my plus one, and she obviously agreed. So I brought her with me to the hotel that Tony booked for us.

I was already ready to go, dressed in a tuxedo Aneka and Ayo gifted me. Black trousers with a dark purple dress shirt tucked into the pants, and a black jacket with the middle button buttoned. I had on my black dress shoes, but I couldn't figure out the whole tie thing, so I just decided not to wear it.

A few seconds later, Y/N opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom looking absolutely gorgeous. Her tight mini dress matched my shirt, dark purple. She had on silver jewelry, and heels that she was somehow still shorter than me in.

"How long until we have to be there? I'm not gonna make you late am I?" she asked worriedly, walking around the room trying to find her hand bag.

I chuckled lightly, "No darling, you're not gonna make me late. Even if we are, we'd be fashionably late." I joked.

She laugh, "Okay I think I'm ready now." letting out a heavy sigh as she found her bag and pulled out her lipgloss to reapply it. She stood up and turned around, noticing me staring at her.

"What?" she smiled.

"Nothing. You just look breathtakingly beautiful." I said, walking towards her with my hands in my pockets, then gently grabbing her by the waist.

"Aw thank you baby. You look rather stunning yourself." she grinned

I laughed, "I'm flattered, angel."

"No tie tonight? I thought you said you had one picked out." she noted the empty space where the tie should've gone.

"I couldn't figure out how to tie it. No big deal though." I reassured her.

"You don't know how to tie a tie, but you own multiple suits?" she questioned, amused.

"I just end up not wearing them because I never had time to learn. I had planned on watching a tutorial or something, but it crossed my mind." I explained and she nodded.

"Where is it?" she asked.

"Uh somewhere in that suitcase over there." I pointed to a suitcase on the bed and she went over to it and opened it, rummaging through the clothes until she found the black tie.

"Oo a bow tie. Cute." she smiled, walking back over to me.

"Okay, stand up straight," she said, and I did as told.

"So what you do is you lay it flat around your neck, make sure one side is pulled longer than the other. Then bring the longer side across the shorter side and make a loose knot. Fold this like this-" she slowly walked me through the steps of tying a tie. I admired the way her face looked so concentrated, it was adorable.

"-pull it tight and there you go." she exclaimed, straightening it out, and I looked down at the bow tied around my neck.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked curiously.

"I have my ways." she winked and I put my hands on the small of her back, about to lean down to kiss her, but she stopped me.

"Noo baby, you'll get gloss on your lips." she reminded me.

I playfully scoffed, "I don't care." I said and titled her chin up to softly kiss her lips, so I didn't smear it.

She hummed into my mouth as I carefully walked her back against the wall, gently pushing her into it. She wrapped her arms around my neck, but I moved them, grabbing her wrists and dragging them up the wall to pin her hands above her head.

I kept her hands on the wall with one hand, while the other trailed down her waist to caress her thigh. When I started to slowly move her dress up, she pulled away slightly.

"We should go before we're actually late." she whispered against my lips.

"It's fine, my love. We'll make it." I told her before connecting our lips again, this time a little more desperate.

"You sure?" she managed to ask in between kisses.

"Yes, princess. Relax, we have plenty of time. I'll make time." I spoke softly, bending down to pick her up under her thighs and making my way to the bed.

~~~

When we arrived at the compound, there was warm lighting, the tiny clanking of wine glasses, and light chatter. I had Y/N linked on my arm so I didn't lose her in the crowd.

"Shuri, Y/N! You're finally here! Thank you for coming." Tony said as he approached us.

"Oh it was no trouble. Thank you for having us." I replied.

"Listen, we really appreciated your help with that incident. If there's anything you need, and I mean anything at all, don't hesitate to let us know. We owe it to you." he said.

"It was our pleasure, Stark. But I will have to ask you where the wine is?" I asked playfully.

He chuckled, "It's right over here. Enjoy the party." he pointed to the bar before smiling at Y/N and walking away.

"You want a drink, darling?" I leaned down to speak into her ear.

"Yeah sure." she lightly smiled and I put my hand on her back, guiding her over to the bar.

"Could I get two white wines?" I kindly asked the bartender before they nodded and started to pour the drinks, handing them to me.

"Thanks." I said and gave one of the glasses to Y/N.

"What do people even do at these events? They seem kind of boring." she questioned, looking around.

"Um...talk and drink I guess?" I chucked.

"I don't really know. I just thought it'd be nice to at least show up after all of that." I shrugged my shoulders.

Just as I said that, Okoye and Nakia approached us, "Well good evening, ladies. Y/N, you look lovely as always. Shuri, you could do better." Okoye playfully insulted.

"Uh- that really means that she thinks you look good as well." Nakia quickly added.

"Thank you, Nakia. Okoye, count your days." I glared at her, and she just smirked.

"Are you guys just now getting here? We couldn't find you earlier." she asked.

"Yeah, we were...running a little behind." I replied.

"Tony got you a hotel room so you wouldn't be late." Nakia said with a puzzled expression on her face.

"We just got busy with...things. Unpacking, and I couldn't find my bag." Y/N tried to make up an excuse, gesturing to her hand bag. But it blew up in our faces when I looked down to try to hide a laugh.

Okoye noticed my action, "Oh my god, gross. Okay I think I'm done with this conversation now. You guys have a fantastic night...or in your case, an even better one than what you've already had." she finished while walking away, Nakia following her.

"Oops." I said and Y/N just rolled her eyes. Slow music started to softly play throughout the speakers in the room. Couples moved to more empty spaces to dance.

I glanced down at Y/N, "May I have this dance?" I held out my hand for her to take.

"I don't know how to dance." she furrowed her eyebrows.

"I'll teach you. Come on, please?" I asked.

She took my hand, "Okay." I led her towards everyone else and found an empty spot.

I grabbed her hands to put her arms over my shoulders, "Put your arms there, and I'll put mine here," I rested my hands on the small of her back, pulling her against my body. "Now just follow my lead."

I slowly swayed from side to side, getting her to copy my movements. Leaning down, pressing my forehead against hers, "I'll go to every party I'm invited to now if it means I get to do this with you." I whispered softly.

She giggled shyly, feeling flustered. Even after we've been together for a few years, she still gets nervous when I say things like that to her.

"Can we dance like this at home when we're alone, too? I like being this close to you." she admitted.

"I could never say no to you, my love." I said and lifted my forehead from hers to lay a kiss on it.

The moment was peaceful, basking in each others presence. That was until everyone on the floor was startled by the glass of the windows shattering to pieces, one after another. People were panicked when they realized the glass was being broken by bullets. The rapid sounds of gunshots rang through my ears along with the terrified shrieks and screams of everyone.

"Everyone get down!" I recognized Tony's voice from the other side of the room. People were already either fleeing or hiding under furniture.

I quickly grabbed Y/N and raced to the nearest place to hide which was a small table beside a couch. I ducked down under it, pulling Y/N with me. I let her lay on the ground first before I laid on top of her, shielding her entire body with mine, and covering her head with my hand.

"You're okay, darling. I've got you." I said in her ear so she could hear me over the commotion.

"Princess!" I turned my head to see Okoye joining us under the table. She slid a gun over in my direction for me to grab while she had her spear out. A gun was the only discreet weapon I could sneak into this building in case of situations like this exact one.

"What happening? There's no one inside." I asked trying to project my voice loud enough over the shots that continued to ring out.

"It's all coming from outside the building. A drive by. Just take that in case you need it." she said, gesturing to the gun in front of me before leaving to go help other people.

I moved off of Y/N just enough to be able to reach the gun. A few seconds later, the sound of the shooting stopped and the loud noise of tires screeching took over.

People started to emerge from their hiding places, frantically asking each other questions about what just happened.

I lifted some of my body weight off of Y/N to look down at her, "Are you okay?" I asked, but she didn't answer.

Moving off of her entirely, I said her name again, "Y/N?" my eyes scanned over her body until I got to her side where blooding was starting to soak through her dress.

"Oh my god, Y/N!" I yelled, turning her over. Her eyes were still open, but barely.

"Shit, baby. It's okay, you’re gonna be okay." I repeated to her, shaking off my jacket and using it to put pressure on her wound. Okoye and Nakia had heard me yell and they sprinted towards me.

"Shuri what- oh god." Nakia interrupted herself when she saw Y/N lying there.

"Can someone find Bruce or- I-I don't know. Just somebody!" I raised my voice and Nakia ran off to get help.

"I've got it, Shuri." Okoye took over putting pressure on the bleeding wound so that I could keep Y/N awake.

"Come on, love. Stay awake for me. I know you're tired, but you've got to. For me please?" I begged, trying to keep her from closing her eyes. Just then, Nakia came back with Bruce following close behind.

"How bad is it?" he asked, quickly kneeling down next to Okoye to take a look.

"I can't tell from here. We should get her down to the medbay, now." he said after Okoye moved the jacket away so he could see.

He went to pick her up, but I was not having that. I put my hand in front of him to stop him, bending down to pick Y/N up. I was running as fast as I could without hurting the girl in my arms that was hanging onto consciousness by a thread, following Bruce to the medbay.

When we got there, a few nurses looked our way before their eyes widened. Jumping into action, I laid Y/N down on a gurney and they began to assess her.

I tried to follow them as they worked, but a nurse stopped me, "Ma'am you need to give the doctors space to work. I assure you they're going to do everything they can for her." she said with a soft voice.

"Yeah, Shuri. You did all you could do. You took care of her before you got her to the medbay and you got her help. Now let them help her.” Okoye comforted me.

Nakia and Okoye led me to the chairs outside of the room so the doctors could work without me hovering over them. They brought me some water and got me to wash my hands.

“Here you go, princess.” Nakia handed me a bottle of water before sitting down next to me along with Okoye. I muttered a thanks and continued staring at the wall.

“She’ll be okay, just like you told her she would be.” Nakia said.

Okoye hummed in agreement, “You quite literally protected her with your life, Shuri. I mean you covered her with your body. Whoever shot that bullet just got lucky.”

“I covered her with my body and she still got hurt. I only moved myself off of her for a few seconds. I shouldn’t have done that.” I quietly spoke.

“Thinking about what you should’ve done isn’t going to help her now. She needs you to be here for her. She’s going to need you soon.” Nakia voiced.

I sighed and nodded, wiping the tears away from my face, “You’re right.”

~~~

About an hour later, Bruce walked out of the room and started to approach us.

I immediately stood up, “What happened? She’s okay right?” I quickly asked.

“Yes, she’s fine and stable. The wound wasn’t that bad. Stopping the bleeding was the most difficult part. But we managed to get it under control and remove the bullet. We took her off of the anesthesia and she’s still asleep, but she should wake up anytime now.” he informed us and it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulder.

I let out a deep breath, “Thank you so much, Bruce. I owe you. Anything you guys need and it’s yours.” I promised him.

“No you don’t need to do that. You saved our asses on that mission the other day so,” he reasoned.

I nodded, “I can see her now, right?”

“Yeah go ahead. When she wakes up she might be in some pain on her side, so just check with her.” he mentioned.

“Oh don’t worry I will.” I said before walking back into the room.

I opened the door and there Y/N was. She looked so small laying in that medical bed. I dragged a chair over to her bedside and sat down in it, gently holding her hand in mine, stroking a thumb over the back of it.

I thought about how this night went from showing her how to slow dance to me sitting next to her hospital bed after she got shot. It was all ruined within the blink of an eye.

The need for sleep eventually caught up to me. I laid my head on the side of the bed, falling asleep but never letting go of her hand.

~~~

I was woken up but a quiet mutter of my name.

“Shuri?” I lifted my head, and Y/N was looking down at me with tired eyes.

“Hey, darling” I was suddenly wide awake now that Y/N was conscious.

I sat up straight so that I could pay attention to her, “How are you feeling? Are you hurting anywhere?”

“No I’m fine. Just really tired.” she spoke softly.

“That’s understandable. Bruce said they had some trouble stopping the bleeding, so you lost quite a bit of blood.” I told her and she hummed, too tired to say anything back.

“Do you need anything? Water, more blankets, anything?” I was trying to be there for her instead of being stuck on what I could’ve done.

“Cuddles?” she whispered.

I chuckled lightly, “Of course, baby.” I carefully climb into the bed with her let her situate herself however she was comfortable.

She snuggled into my side and placed her head on my chest, grabbing onto my hand to hold. I used my other hand to rub her back, laying a kiss on her head.

“Can we do that dance again when we get home?” she murmured.

“We absolutely can. We can do whatever you want.” I responded. We laid in comfortable silence for a little bit until I spoke up.

“I love you, angel.” I said, but when I got no response I looked down to see that she had fallen back asleep, and I smiled to myself. Happy that she was getting the rest she needed.

[sosuigeneris]

Sunday plans: slept in till 11 am. I’ve been dreaming every night since I was a child but my dreams the last few nights have been really strange.

Put on Lady Gaga and Tony Bennett’s 2014 jazz album while I freshen up. I might head to the JW Marriott in the noon for a massage because my back and neck are killing me after sleeping for 12 hours straight.

I bought that insanity workout program and I’m going to start tomorrow. Am I excited? You bet I am. It’s only 60 days and I’m trying to ensure that I will stay consistent no matter what. I’ve been reading all the reviews on blogs and Reddit pages to ensure that my mindset to do this doesn’t wear off by Monday. I wonder if it’s going to be as hard as everyone says it is. I’ve been working out my whole life (without getting the results I want) so let’s see if this works.

I’m going to read some more of that pig book, give my dad updates on our family office and prep for tomorrow’s 5 am wake up.

But one thing that I really wanted to talk about is embodying the mindset of you want to be. I wanted to be perceived as intelligent, put-together and elegant for years and I worked towards it. Reading a wide variety of things and knowing what part of that content I can put to use in a conversation; practicing my posture even if I’m alone, making sure that I look good when I step out, dressing the way my ideal self does, engaging in creative workshops to really branch out, knowing how to talk to people older than me in a respectful manner (this is huge in eastern culture). And it’s finally, finally all paying off.

the reason I know it is because a) I can feel the change myself. My social skills have improved, I don’t need to drink to be comfortable socially. I also have really strong observational skills: I can notice how other people see me even if they don’t say it. B) other people who I barely know validate point A. At the meditation retreat in Black Forest, a random lady told my friend that she thought I “was so elegant and chic, the way (I) carried myself” and my friend came and told me all this the second the lady left. Other people do notice when you start making changes.

now if you’ve reached this stage, this is what you have to hear: do not get dependent on other people’s validation. That will be your Achilles heel. Do not get enamoured by compliments nor let down by criticism. Learn to accept it graciously but don’t let your emotions take control of you.

if you get dependent on people’s validation, you will soon become a chameleon in social settings. When you’re with Betty, because Betty thinks you’re a hilarious person when drinking, you’ll embody exactly that personality because you don’t want to let Betty down. When you’re with Mrs Smith you’re on your best behaviour because she’s this elegant old lady.

there’s nothing wrong in slightly altering your personality depending on the social group. but there has to be a certain limit to it. And you need to establish that limit.

If you don’t, you’ll be nothing but a doormat for these people. They will lose interest in you anyway, when they realise that you have no original personality and you’re just trying to imitate their thoughts and beliefs. Know when to blend and when to not.

how do you establish that limit? It’s very simple. You decide a few core values, beliefs, principles and opinions that you will absolutely not budge on. And once you have that, come up with 20 ways you can say “I don’t agree” in the most polite, politically-correct, respectful manner possible OR learn how to deviate conversations to different subjects seamlessly. I would always prefer the latter because I think it’s the best way to handle social conflict. Unless the person is my age or someone who I know I can give my piece of mind to, I don’t bother engaging and gently direct the conversation to a different subject altogether.

And how does one deviate conversations? it must be done as subtly as possible. If the conversation is about a war happening and you’re trying to deviate it to their opinion of Saltburn it’s obviously not going to work. What you have to do is choose the closest, safest topic, repeatedly. For instance if someone is talking about politics that I don’t want to talk about, I’ll throw in some history: “do you know that back in 19XX this had happened?” And then slowly deviate that conversation to an author or poet who had written very well on that subject; then deviate again, ask them if they like to read anything. If they bring up political books, then I would create a “hard stop” and say oh, I really like Bengali poetry. If the conversationalist is a good one, they will reciprocate and ask me more. I can then give a little summary of something I’ve read and ask them for their opinion on it.

you will only become good at this if you go out and engage with people. I’ve found the cutest little jazz lounge in my city and I plan to go there with a maximum of 2 friends who also want to interact and meet new people. You have to gain experience socially in order to become socially smart.

-Cherry 🍒

[zipperrants]

ya know what fuck it imma do chaotic images as me and my mcu dr bc why tf not

not really chaotic but it would absolutely be me on the left and Zenna on the right

from left to right, Me,Peter,Zenna,Pietro

me and morgan arguing and zenna minding her damn buisness

me (top) annoying a poor Bucky (bottom)

Peter at his 18th birthday party (yes we actually got him a satchel that said princess and forced him to wear it)

me and wanda that week that it rained in Paris but we didn't pack any rain clothes

Nat after dealing with me and Zenna subjecting her to a makeover against her will

Clint after I told him "I bet you can't hit this piece of paper from 500 feet away"

me, Pietro, and Zenna dressing Morgan in the most horrendus outfits ever

Sammy boi after I bet him he couldn't walk in my platforme heels

Steve after I asked him why he wasn't just reheating his leftovers for lunch in the microwave

when it is time for those of us under 30 (me,zenna,pete,and Kate Bishop) turn to cook

Steve,Bucky,Tony,and Clint after they put up the christmas tree the day of the party (which is always christmas eve)

morgan after I let her watch the exorsist (there is a reason I am not allowed to watch tv with her anymore i promise-)

[dannydotexe]

Tony Montana NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tony definitely gives you the best cuddle sesh afterwards, making sure you're okay, ect. He is the biggest softie ever, and only you get to see that side of him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Tony obviously prides himself over his, ahem, “package”, but can't choose what's his favorite from you - he loves all of you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He can splurge quite a bit, actually! He likes to do it on your face, chest, stomach, ass, etc., but if you really want him to, he can definitely do it inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He absolutely loves when you treat him the way he normally treats you - playing with his hair so softly, caressing his body oh-so lovingly, etc. He normally won't ask for it, so you gotta take initiative and do that for him - he greatly appreciates it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's been boinking people for as long as he could remember - from prostitutes to old lovers, he has quite the resume.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Plain doggystyle or a missionary position where your legs are up over his shoulders.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be both goofy and serious in the moment at the same time - a nice happy medium.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Whew… the carpet definitely matches the drapes. He keeps himself neatly groomed, so everything looks so nice when he's nekkid.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Tony is known for his honeyed words, so he is definitely going to use them in the bedroom. He can either treat you like the biggest princess or the biggest SLUT ever imagined, there's no in between.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

If he's out for business and has no access to you, he will definitely rub a quick one in private before going on about his business. But if he is home with you, what's the point? Unless you wanna watch him jork it (which makes sense) or participate in mutual jorking.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, degradation, marking, power play, roleplay… the list goes on, but those are the main ones.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers to do it in the privacy of his own home where he knows for sure that nobody is watching you two - like his bed or his luxurious bath. But if the both of you are desperate at the Babylon Club, then I guess the bathroom would be a more “exciting” area? (They look like they keep their bathrooms very clean, so a quickie won't hurt I guess)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Touch him, tease him, but if you really wanna get it going, wear lingerie with a matching set of heels. The heels stay on during sex, Tony's rules.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but his personal turn offs are anything very unsanitary (bodily excrement - spit is fine)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Absolutely loves giving and receiving oral. Doesn’t matter what genitals you have, he always succeeds with making you a mess.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be either depending on how both of you are feeling. Romantic and soft, or absolutely raw and animalistic? He loves both equally.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he has limited time due to his business, then a quickie is always appreciated. But if he has plenty of time, why not savor the moment?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's okay with taking risks and willing to experiment, but he always makes sure to check in with you to make sure that you are 100% comfortable with it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for quite a while if you catch him on a good day (or night). He always holds out on his orgasm until you do first, then he lets loose.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nothing super crazy other than maybe some handcuffs? He likes using the handcuffs on you, but absolutely loves it when you use them on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh man… he absolutely loves to hear you whimper and beg for it. It's music to his ears, but he has to let you finish some time later, right?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Oh, Tony gets vocal all right. Whether he's giving or receiving, he is always grunting, groaning, moaning - he isn't afraid to show it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is unable to impregnate due to his previous rampant coke abuse, so he has no problem with finishing inside you without the fear of unwillingly getting you pregnant.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His size is pretty impressive - 7.5-8 inches, cut, thick girth, and has a singular vein running along it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's an absolute horndog. The movie, video game, and book showcase this very well.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Doesn't fall asleep right away, but during a cuddle sesh, he will definitely fall asleep with you.

[writteninscarlet]

📏+ 6'1

Send me 📏 (ruler) + your muses height and I'll compare them to mine! ;; accepting

“I could get higher heels to wear. I would if I didn’t think you would do the same to stay taller.”

whilst not a massive difference, wanda is not above (haha) making the WORST tall jokes (how many years did it take for you to get so tall? what’s the weather like up there?) even though it’s 50-50 that she could take a small joke. absolutely given him a kicked puppy dog look if he returns the joke on her. but tol tony is good to hug. tucked under the chin thanks. big safe tony hug. …iron man suit just towering over her though.

[gitsyp]

When the Lights go Out

Chapters:  1/1

Fandom: MCU

Rating:  M

Warnings:  No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships:  Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis

Characters:  Darcy Lewis, Steve Rogers, 

Additional Tags: Pegging, Masturbation, Anal Sex

Summary: When the lights go out, Darcy and Steve find something to fill the time.

Darcy Lewis Bingo 2023 

Card No. / Name on Card: GitsyP

Square: A1- First Time

Darcy Lewis Bingo’s 2023 Halloween Flash Challenge

Card C - The lights go out.

@darcylewisbingohq

“Cold, cold, cold,” Darcy chanted as she buckled up the metal buckles. She shivered as it lay against her naked hip but knew the metal would warm up quickly. A quick shimmy and everything lay where it was supposed to. She double checked herself in the mirror, the lighting eerie as the candles they had set on the counter reflected in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, but what did she expect, but otherwise she looked great. One more boob fluff and she was good. 

She peeked out of the bathroom and had to bite her lip to hold back a groan. 

Steve was lying naked on the bed, one thick leg propped up, slowly stroking himself. His skin seemed to glow in the light of all the candles they had lit in the bedroom. 

It didn't matter how many times she saw him naked, it had the exact same effect on her. Her breathing sped up, her nipples tightened and her panties soaked. Or they would if she was currently wearing any. As it was, she pressed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache between them.

She watched his expression for a moment, enjoying the tight look of pleasure she saw there, before her gaze drifted down the muscled planes of his chest. His cock was angry and purple, and on every upstroke, Steve squeezed and let his thumb drag over the head of his cock.

Pushing the door open, she smiled as Steve dropped his hand and tried to look nonchalant. 

“Nuh uh, mister. I saw you. You were supposed to stay absolutely still and wait for me.”

With a shrug he resumed his slow tugging of his cock.

“Oh, naughty boy.”

“Whatcha going to do about it, Lewis?”

Darcy climbed onto the bed and slowly crawled up to sit on her heels between his legs. Her black push up was doing its job and the black leather of the straps surrounded her hips, contrasting with her paleness. She stroked the purple dildo strapped to her harness and pretended to think. “Oh I dunno, one or two things come to mind.”

Steve groaned at the picture she presented and gripped his cock a little tighter, squeezing the purpled head and making precum ooze out of it. They had been playing for at least an hour before Darcy had gone into the ensuite to get into the strapon, teasing and prepping his ass and Steve hadn’t come yet. Darcy on the other hand had enjoyed three orgasms.

“God, you’re pretty like that,” he said huskily.

She took the tiniest bit of pity on him and leaned over and took the head of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around and getting every last taste of come off of him. She even licked at his fingers before coming off with a pop.

“Back or front?”

Steve took a second to clear the lust filled haze from his brain before he answered. “Front, I wanna see you.”

Her dark red lips spread in a grin before she grabbed a pillow and helped arrange it under him.

They had played with plugs and dildos before but this was a first for them. They had been waiting for the right moment to use the strapon they had picked out together and today seemed to be the perfect opportunity. The power had gone out, and Tony had called in subdued panic to cancel the group get together to watch campy horror films until he managed to figure out what the fuck had happened. Backup power was enough to keep essentials running, like Friday, but apparently Tony didn’t believe that lights were essential.

Steve and Darcy had just gone and found every candle that she owned and sprinkled them around the bedroom and bathroom and made the very best use of their time.

They got Steve arranged how Darcy wanted him and then she leaned forward to give him a long, dirty kiss. He grabbed her ass and ground himself into her belly, the plastic cock pressed between them.

“Still good?” she asked, her breath warm against his cheek.

He nodded, eyes hooded with lust and anticipation. 

She grabbed the lube and slicked the strapon before smearing a little extra onto Steve. He groaned when she dipped her finger a tiny bit into his hole and she smirked. 

Holding on to the slightly flexible phallus, she pressed slowly into his ass.

Steve's breath hitched and she stilled, watching his face. He looked fuckdrunk and desperate, but not like anything was hurting. She pressed the rest of the length in slowly and he let out a long “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

“Good?”

“Fuck, so good Darce. Move?”

She gripped his thighs firmly and slowly moved her hips in a sinuous rhythm, pulling out a tiny bit before pushing back in. 

Sweat broke out on Steve's chest and he started making needy noises. His eyes kept closing in pleasure before he opened again to stare at where the toy was disappearing into him. His hand slid up from the bed and he started pumping his cock in time with her movements.

“More,” he groaned, and she increased both her speed and her force. The needy noises turned into desperate groans and Steve still matched her pace.

“I’m close,” he grunted out.

Darcy shifted and suddenly it was like she had found the perfect angle, because Steve was swearing and his cock was spurting all over his fist and chest. 

She held still until he relaxed back into the bed, and carefully withdrew. Steve hissed as she did so, but gave her a crooked smile and a shake of the head when she would have asked if he was ok. 

Darcy gave him a soft smile back and then disappeared back into the bathroom where she dumped the entirety of the strapon into the shower. She’d clean it after the lights came back on. They had only set a couple candles in the bathroom by the mirror and there wasn't enough light. She grabbed a washcloth and wet it to bring back out to Steve.

When she came back out, Steve had recovered some. As soon as she was within reach, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the bed with a growl. Darcy giggled but he pressed his mouth against hers, kissing her breathless. 

She kissed him back but then pulled away with another laugh and let the cloth land on his chest. 

“Fuck Darce, thats cold,” he complained. She just stuck her tongue out at him “It was warm when I came out, you distracted me”, and then wiped him down and let the cloth fall onto the floor with a splat. Then she took off her bra and let it fall next to the cloth before climbing in next to him and pulling the covers up over them both. Steve tucked her in close to him and pressed a kiss against her messy curls.

“That was definitely more fun than whatever slasher fic Tony picked out.”

“Yup,” she hummed, snuggling against his chest, “10/10, would do again.”

He snorted softly but just kissed her head again and they both drifted off to sleep.

[whileiamdying]

Barry Humphries (Dame Edna to You, Possums) Is Dead at 89

Bewigged, bejeweled and bejowled, Mr. Humphries’s creation was one of the longest-lived characters ever channeled by a single performer.

Barry Humphries as Dame Edna Everage in the one-person show “Dame Edna: Back With a Vengeance” at the Music Box Theater on Broadway in 2004. Credit... Sara Krulwich

by Margalit Fox April 22, 2023Updated 12:35 p.m. ET

Oh, Possums, Dame Edna is no more.

To be unflinchingly precise, Barry Humphries, the Australian-born actor and comic who for almost seven decades brought that divine doyenne of divadom, Dame Edna Everage, to delirious, dotty, disdainful Dadaist life, died on Saturday in Sydney. He was 89.

His death was confirmed by the hospital where he had spent several days after undergoing hip surgery. In a tribute message posted on Twitter, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese of Australia praised Mr. Humphries as “a great wit, satirist, writer and an absolute one-of-kind.”

A stiletto-heeled, stiletto-tongued persona who might well have been the spawn of a ménage à quatre involving Oscar Wilde, Salvador Dalí, Auntie Mame and Miss Piggy, Dame Edna was not so much a character as a cultural phenomenon, a force of nature trafficking in wicked, sequined commentary on the nature of fame.

For generations after the day she first sprang to life on the Melbourne stage, Dame Edna reigned, bewigged, bejeweled and bejowled, one of the longest-lived characters to be channeled by a single performer. She toured worldwide in a series of solo stage shows and was ubiquitous on television in the United States, Britain, Australia and elsewhere.

A master improviser (many of Dame Edna’s most stinging barbs were ad-libbed) with a face like taffy, Mr. Humphries was widely esteemed as one of the world’s foremost theatrical clowns.

“I’ve only seen one man have power over an audience like that,” the theater critic John Lahr told him, after watching Dame Edna night after night in London. “My father.” Mr. Lahr’s father was the great stage and cinematic clown Bert Lahr.

Mr. Humphries conceived Edna in 1955 as Mrs. Norm Everage, typical Australian housewife. “Everage,” after all, is Australian for “average.”

Housewife, Superstar, National Treasure

But Edna soon became a case study in exorbitant amour propre, lampooning suburban pretensions, political correctness and the cult of celebrity, and acquiring a damehood along the way. A “housewife-superstar,” she called herself, upgrading the title in later years to “megastar” and, still later, to “gigastar.”

Mr. Humphries as Dame Edna, wearing a hat in the shape of the Sydney Opera House, in 1976. Credit... Wesley/Getty Images

In Britain, where Mr. Humphries had long made his home, Dame Edna was considered a national treasure, a paragon of performance art long before the term was coined.

In the United States, she starred in a three-episode series, “Dame Edna’s Hollywood,” a mock celebrity talk show broadcast on NBC in the early 1990s, and was a frequent guest on actual talk shows.

She performed several times on Broadway, winning Mr. Humphries a special Tony Award, as well as Drama Desk and Theater World Awards, for “Dame Edna: The Royal Tour,” his 1999 one-person show.

In her stage and TV shows, written largely by Mr. Humphries, Dame Edna typically made her entrance tottering down a grand staircase (Mr. Humphries was more than six feet tall) in a tsunami of sequins, her hair a bouffant violet cloud (she was “a natural wisteria,” she liked to say), her evening gown slit to the thigh to reveal Mr. Humphries’s surprisingly good legs, her body awash in jewels, her eyes agape behind sprawling rhinestone glasses (“face furniture,” she called them).

Addressing the audience, she delivered her signature greeting, “Hellooooo, Possums!”

By turns tender and astringent, Dame Edna called audience members “possums” often. She also called them other things, as when, leaning across the footlights, she would address a woman in the front row in a confiding, carrying voice: “I know, dear. I used to make my own clothes, too.”

Mr. Humphries with the English actress Joan Plowright at the Lyric Theater in London. Credit... Evening Standard/Getty Images

Performances concluded with Dame Edna flinging hundreds of gladioli into the crowd, no mean feat aerodynamically. “Wave your gladdies, Possums!” she exhorted audience members who caught them, and the evening would end, to music, with a mass valedictory swaying.

Between the “Hellooooo” and the gladdies, Dame Edna’s audiences were treated to a confessional monologue deliciously akin to finding oneself stranded in a hall of vanity mirrors.

There was commentary on her husband and children (“I made a decision: I put my family last”); her beauty regimen (“Good self-esteem is very important. I look in the mirror and say, ‘Edna, you are gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous’”); and the constellation of luminaries who routinely sought her counsel, among them Queen Elizabeth II and her family. (“I’ve had to change my telephone number several times to stop them ringing me.”)

Dame Edna’s TV shows were often graced by actual celebrity guests, including Zsa Zsa Gabor, Charlton Heston, Sean Connery, Robin Williams and Lauren Bacall.

They came in for no less of a drubbing than the audience did, starting with the inaugural affront, the affixing of immense name tags to their lapels — for eclipsed by the light of gigastardom so close at hand, who among us would not be reduced to anonymity?

“Chuck,” Mr. Heston’s name tag read. Ms. Gabor received two: a “Zsa” for the right shoulder and a “Zsa” for the left.

A few pleasantries were exchanged before Dame Edna moved in for the kill.

“You’ve had nine hits this year,” she purred fawningly at the singer-songwriter Michael Bolton on one of her British TV shows. “On your website.”

Turning to the audience after delivering a particularly poisonous insult, she would ooze, “I mean that in the most caring way.”

Those guests who emerged relatively unscathed had the savvy to take Dame Edna at face value and interact with her as though she were real. The moment he donned those rhinestone glasses, Mr. Humphries often said, Dame Edna became real to him too, an entirely separate law unto herself.

‘I Wish I’d Thought of That’

“I’m, as it were, in the wings, and she’s onstage,” he explained in a 2015 interview with Australian television. “And every now and then she says something extremely funny, and I stand there and think, ‘I wish I’d thought of that.’”

But the truly funny thing, Possums, is that when Mr. Humphries first brought Dame Edna to life, he intended her to last only a week or so. What was more, she was meant to have been played by the distinguished actress Zoe Caldwell.

Mr. Humphries created a string of other characters over the years, notably the boorish, bibulous Australian cultural attaché Sir Les Patterson. But it was Dame Edna, the outlandish aunt who engenders adoration and mortification in equal measure, who captivated the public utterly — despite the fact that in later years, her mortification-inducing lines sometimes landed her, and her creator, in trouble.

So fully did Mr. Humphries animate Edna that he was at continued pains to point out that he was neither a female impersonator in the conventional sense nor a cross-dresser in any sense.

“Mr. Humphries, do you ever have to take your children aside and explain to them why you like to wear women’s clothes?” an American interviewer once asked him.

“If I were an actor playing Hamlet,” he replied, “would I have to take my children aside and say I wasn’t really Danish?’”

By all accounts far more erudite than Dame Edna — he was an accomplished painter, bibliophile and art collector — Mr. Humphries, in a sustained act of self-protection, always spoke of her in the third person.

She did likewise. “My manager,” she disdainfully called him. (She also called Mr. Humphries “a money-grubbing little slug” and accused him of embezzling her fortune. He did, it must be said, cash a great many of her checks.)

But as dismissive of her creator as Dame Edna was, she rallied to his aid when he very likely needed her most: after years of alcoholism culminated in stays in psychiatric hospitals and at least one brush with the law.

Mr. Humphries at the Booth Theater on Broadway in 1999 in “Dame Edna: The Royal Tour,” for which he won a special Tony Award, as well as Drama Desk and Theater World Awards. Credit... Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

‘I Hated Her’

John Barry Humphries was born in Kew, a Melbourne suburb, on Feb. 17, 1934. His father, Eric, was a prosperous builder; his mother, Louisa, was a homemaker.

From his earliest childhood in Camberwell, a more exclusive suburb, he felt oppressed by the bourgeois conformism that enveloped his parents and their circle, and depressed by his mother’s cold suburban propriety.

Dame Edna was a response to those forces.

“I invented Edna because I hated her,” Mr. Humphries was quoted as saying in Mr. Lahr’s book “Dame Edna Everage and the Rise of Western Civilization: Backstage With Barry Humphries” (1992). “I poured out my hatred of the standards of the little people of their generation.”

Dame Edna emerged when the young Mr. Humphries, under the sway of Dadaism, was performing with a repertory company based at the University of Melbourne; he had dropped out of the university two years before.

On long bus tours, he entertained his colleagues with the character of Mrs. Norm Everage — born Edna May Beazley in Wagga Wagga, Australia, sometime in the 1930s — an ordinary housewife who had found sudden acclaim after winning a nationwide competition, the Lovely Mother Quest.

Unthinkable as it seems, Edna was dowdy then, given to mousy brown hair and pillbox hats. But she was already in full command of the arsenal of bourgeois bigotries that would be a hallmark of her later self.

For a revue by the company in December 1955, Mr. Humphries wrote a part for Edna, earmarked for Ms. Caldwell, an Australian contemporary. But when she proved too busy to oblige, he donned a dress and played it himself. After Edna proved a hit with Melbourne audiences, he performed the character elsewhere in the country.

By the end of the 1950s, hoping to make a career as a serious actor, Mr. Humphries had moved to London, where Edna met with little enthusiasm and was largely shelved. (She blamed Mr. Humphries ever after for her lack of early success there.)

Mr. Humphries played Mr. Sowerberry, the undertaker, in the original West End production of the musical “Oliver!” in 1960, and reprised the role when the show came to Broadway in 1963.

But though he worked steadily during the ’60s, he was also in the fierce grip of alcoholism. Stays in psychiatric hospitals, he later said, were of no avail.

His nadir came in 1970, when he awoke in a Melbourne gutter to find himself under arrest.

With a doctor’s help, Mr. Humphries became sober soon afterward; he did not take a drink for the rest of his life. He dusted off Dame Edna and, little by little, de-dowdified her. By the late ’70s, with celebrity culture in full throttle, she had given him international renown and unremitting employment.

Edna did not seduce every critic. Reviewing her first New York stage show, the Off Broadway production “Housewife! Superstar!!,” in The New York Times in 1977, Richard Eder called it “abysmal.”

Nor did Edna’s resolute lack of political correctness always stand her, or Mr. Humphries, in good stead. In February 2003, writing an advice column as Dame Edna in Vanity Fair, he replied to a reader’s query about whether to learn Spanish.

“Who speaks it that you are really desperate to talk to?” Dame Edna’s characteristically caustic response read. “The help? Your leaf blower? Study French or German, where there are at least a few books worth reading, or, if you’re American, try English.”

A public furor ensued, led by the Mexican-born actress Salma Hayek, who appeared on the magazine’s cover that month. Vanity Fair discontinued Dame Edna’s column not long afterward.

In an interview with The Times in 2004, Mr. Humphries was unrepentant.

“The people I offended were minorities with no sense of humor, I fear,” he said. “When you have to explain the nature of satire to somebody, you’re fighting a losing battle.”

Mr. Humphries drew further ire after a 2016 interview with the British newspaper The Telegraph in which he denounced political correctness as a “new puritanism.” In the same interview, he described people who transition from male to female as “mutilated” men, and Caitlyn Jenner in particular as “a publicity-seeking ratbag.”

Sailing Above the Fray

Dame Edna, for her part, appeared to sail imperviously through. She returned to Broadway in 2004 for the well-received show “Dame Edna: Back With a Vengeance” and in 2010 with “All About Me,” a revue that also starred the singer and pianist Michael Feinstein.

Mr. Humphries was back on Broadway as Dame Edna in 2010 with “All About Me,” a revue that also starred the singer and pianist Michael Feinstein.Credit...Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

As herself — it was she, and not Mr. Humphries, who was credited — Dame Edna played the recurring character Claire Otoms (the name is an anagram for “a sitcom role”), an outré lawyer, on the Fox TV series “Ally McBeal.”

Under his own name, Mr. Humphries appeared as the Great Goblin in “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” (2012); as the voice of Bruce, the great white shark, in “Finding Nemo” (2003); and in other pictures.

Mr. Humphries’s books include the memoirs “More Please” (1992) and “My Life as Me” (2002) and the novel “Women in the Background” (1995). He was named a Commander of the British Empire in 2007.

Dame Edna also wrote several books, among them “Dame Edna’s Bedside Companion” (1983) and the memoir “My Gorgeous Life” (1989).

Mr. Humphries’s first marriage, to Brenda Wright, ended in divorce, as did his second, to Rosalind Tong, and his third, to Diane Millstead. He had two daughters, Tessa and Emily, from his marriage to Ms. Tong, and two sons, Oscar and Rupert, from his marriage to Ms. Millstead.

The Sydney Morning Herald reported that his survivors include his wife of 30 years, Lizzie Spender, the daughter of the British poet Stephen Spender, as well as his children and 10 grandchildren.

Mr. Humphries continued to perform until last year, when he toured Britain (as himself) with a one-man show, “The Man Behind the Mask.” He returned to Australia in December for Christmas.

Dame Edna’s husband, Norm, a chronic invalid “whose prostate,” she often lamented, “has been hanging over me for years,” died long ago. Her survivors include an adored son, Kenny, who designed all her gowns; a less adored son, Bruce; and a despised daughter, the wayward Valmai. (“She steals things. Puts them in her pantyhose. Particularly frozen chickens when she’s in a supermarket.”)

Another daughter, Lois, was abducted as an infant by a “rogue koala,” a subject Dame Edna could bring herself to discuss with interviewers only rarely.

Though the child was never seen again, to the end of her life Dame Edna never gave up hope she would be found.

“I’m looking,” she told NPR in 2015. “Every time I pass a eucalyptus tree I look up.”

Constant Meheut contributed reporting.

Margalit Fox is a former senior writer on the obituaries desk at The Times. She was previously an editor at the Book Review. She has written the send-offs of some of the best-known cultural figures of our era, including Betty Friedan, Maya Angelou and Seamus Heaney. More about Margalit Fox

[aurumacadicus]

Pride Pocket12--I Wanna Be Your Dog

Kink belongs at Pride and as an ace person I’m personally sick of people using my existence to try and push it out, so this year I’m dedicating my Pride Pockets to Kink. Obviously this has awakened something in me. I’m suddenly in love with owners Steve and Natasha and their (sometimes) sweet pups, Bucky and Tony. Fuck. You can find this fic on AO3 (here). Look out for under the cut!

--

Tony was going to be visiting.

Bucky growled to himself, pawing at the basket muzzle over his mouth, the stainless-steel wires not doing much to hide his sneer. He paced the room once, twice, then turned to Steve with a snarl. He liked his hood better. He liked the way his ears flapped when he shook his head like that instead of the way these had to stand upright on the muzzle.

“The muzzle is a safety precaution that you agreed to previously. You almost bit him last time,” Steve said, unperturbed, and continued working on his crossword puzzle as if Bucky was not capable of body slamming him with his displeasure. He glanced at his phone as it buzzed, then began folding his newspaper away.

Bucky huffed to make his displeasure known again. Maybe if Tony wasn’t such a snooty poodle, they’d get along. As it was, every time Tony came over, he ate Bucky’s food, hogged Bucky’s toys, and stole Bucky’s bed. Admittedly, he didn’t know if Tony expected the same treatment from his apartment; Bucky had taken one look at Tony’s dog bed that was more expensive than his and Steve’s queen and decided he was too skittish to try for it. He was bulkier than Tony. He might have damaged it.

Steve stood and made his way over to him, casually scooping up his thick leather leash from the table as he came to a stop beside him. Bucky scrambled to get away from him, but Steve was used to him, easily snapping the leash’s clasp onto the d-ring of his harness. “Bucky, cut it out,” Steve ordered sharply. “Sit.”

Bucky waited two beats, just to show he was sitting because he wanted to, not because he was told to. He huffed again, scowling, as Steve tied the other end of the leash to the post under the breakfast bar. He waited for the telltale knock at the door, getting up again so he could put the force of his whole body into his barking. He was absolutely stunned when Steve simply walked over to the door and opened it to show Tony and Natasha outside it.

“Wow, texting actually worked. He’s not barking at all,” Natasha said, surprised, as Steve welcomed them inside with a wave of his arm. She opened her bag as she stepped inside, digging through it with meticulous focus as Steve helped Tony out of his long coat, showing off that he was wearing nothing but his chest and plug harnesses, decorated by fluff to really make it look like he had a poodle cut. She unearthed Tony’s black poodle hood and matching paws. “Be a good boy and sit.”

Tony sat obediently, allowing her to do the majority of the work helping him into his hood and paws. Bucky seethed. What a spoiled show dog. He bet Tony got steaks for dinner at his house, and he was just as sure that Tony was going to help himself to Bucky’s food bowl anyway. And Tony wasn’t intimidated by the bulk of him at all, even when Bucky snarled and bared his teeth in warning. It was why they’d all decided he had to be muzzled during play-dates, at least until he learned to deal with Tony.

He doubted he ever would, Bucky thought sourly, as Natasha finally allowed Tony to pop back onto his paws. She got his leash on before he could bolt, though, and he came to heel immediately, chest heaving with excited pants as his eyes darted around the room. Brown noser.

Steve came back over and untied Bucky’s leash, taking a step to lead him toward Tony and Natasha. Bucky planted himself back into his sitting position, unimpressed.

“Bucky,” Steve hissed, glaring at him.

Bucky just blinked up at him serenely. Steve hadn’t said ‘come’ or ‘heel’ so he figured he should follow Steve’s previous order to sit.

“Sassy,” Natasha said, luckily sounding amused rather than hesitant. She clicked her tongue and tightened her grip on Tony’s leash as she chose to step forward instead, and Tony kept perfect pace with her, tail wagging with each step as they approached.

Well. It would be rude not to greet him when he looked so happy, Bucky figured, getting up again. He stepped forward, scenting the air. Tony smelled of the expensive leather used to make his harnesses, and… blueberries? Steve had mentioned once it was a treat Natasha used to keep Tony calm outside of their apartments. He leaned in as Tony came closer, sniffing down his back until he could get to Tony’s rear. His tail was brushed to poofy perfection, the leather of his tail harness cupping each cheek in a way that made them look even rounder. Bucky couldn’t help a pang of jealousy at what a pretty dog Tony was. Pretty dogs shouldn’t be annoying, he thought.

“Will you boys behave?” Natasha asked pleasantly.

There was an edge to her voice that Bucky recognized from the fighting ring he’d endured before Steve had rescued him. He fought the urge to cower, because Tony didn’t look alarmed in the slightest. Steve seemed to notice and stepped in closer, the hand not holding his leash carefully petting along his scalp, scratching behind his ears.

“He’ll behave,” Steve told her firmly.

Natasha blinked at him in surprise, then took a step back, looking contrite. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” She looked down at Tony, frowning. “Will you behave?” she said, as if correcting herself.

Tony just smiled up at her guilelessly, panting.

“…Alright,” Natasha said skeptically, reaching down to unclip his leash.

And they did behave, for a while.

Tony moved around the apartment sniffing everything and Bucky followed him, not trusting Tony to appreciate everything (that is, appreciate that everything belonged to Bucky). Tony found a squeaky toy and slapped it around just to hear it squeak and Bucky watched, just to make sure that Tony didn’t do the same to his soft stuffed rabbit. (Tony had apparently learned to give it a wide berth after Bucky almost bit him last time. He figured he probably should feel guilty about that now, as he watched Tony literally give it three feet of space as he circled it.) Tony found Bucky’s food and water bowls, and Bucky kept his growling to a minimum as he watched Tony sniff around them before trotting off again. It was fine.

And then it wasn’t fine. Bucky wasn’t even sure what set him off—Tony flopping into his dog bed and rolling around to get his scent all over it? Tony snatching half his food before Bucky chased him away from it? Tony accidentally stepping on his soft stuffed rabbit as he went chasing after Bucky’s favorite fetch ball?—but whatever it was, it had him chasing Tony around the apartment with a snarl, and Tony let out terrified little yipping noises as he ran.

Natasha made the mistake of trying to separate them instead of letting Steve do it, apparently not wanting to waste the extra twenty seconds it would take Steve to circle the kitchen counter. She’d caught Bucky by the harness in an attempt to pull him to a stop, but he’d just bowled through her, and she’d gone skidding across the ground and into his feeding station, where she got covered in the half-remaining food and his entire bowl of water.

Like any self-respecting dogs, Bucky and Tony had scattered and hid.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve told her hurriedly, helping her to her feet. “I should have told you that Bucky is solid.”

Natasha stared at Steve for a moment, stunned speechless. Finally, though, she deadpanned, “No, you’re right, I never would have realized your dog was built like a brick house, Steve.”

“I was going to offer you a shower and a change of clothes before you said that,” Steve replied, and she winced apologetically in response. “Throw your clothes out and I’ll take them down to the laundry room. I’ll leave some of my clothes on the counter.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Natasha sighed, then slanted a sharp look toward where Tony was cowering under the kitchen table. “Tony. Come.”

Tony approached hesitantly, more skittishly than Bucky had ever seen him. He couldn’t help a low growl at the sight, but luckily, he went ignored.

Natasha pointed to a spot in front of the couch. “Lie down. Stay,” she added sharply when he shifted restlessly. “Do not make me put a leash on you while I shower. I hate doing that.”

Tony let out a sigh as if he was the most put upon dog in the world, laying his head on his paws.

Bucky knew he wasn’t going to be so lucky. He’d been the aggressor. He hadn’t bitten Tony, but he had mounted him for a moment, trying to hump him into submission. That was part of the reason Natasha had tried to grab him—Steve had been so shocked when he’d realized what was happening that he’d shouted, ‘That’s impolite!’ and Tony had taken the chance to scamper off again while Bucky and Natasha gaped at Steve.

But he’d take his lumps. He’d caused Natasha to get covered in dog food, after all. He cautiously crawled out from his kennel, sighing, and said nothing as Steve grabbed him by the harness and dragged him over to the kitchen. He tied Bucky’s leash to the post holding up the breakfast bar again, then clipped it to his d-ring with a shake of his head and a sigh.

Bucky was not going to be ashamed about what happened, but he did sink down into a lying position so Steve wouldn’t have to order him.

“Unbelievable,” Steve muttered, rolling his eyes, before he turned back to Natasha and motioned toward the hallway. “Come on.”

“Thanks,” she said, then offered Tony one more narrow-eyed look, firmly repeating, “Stay.”

Tony let out a whuff, looking up at her with mournful eyes, but Natasha simply raised an eyebrow before she followed Steve down the hall to the bathroom.

Steve returned a moment later, Natasha’s clothes in hand, and took a minute to just walk over and frown at Bucky. “Bud, she’s not gonna set up play-dates with us anymore if you keep doing this.”

Bucky huffed, shrinking in on himself. He didn’t care if he never saw Tony again.

Steve squatted in front of him and reached out to carefully cup Bucky’s cheek in his hand. He reluctantly leaned into Steve’s palm. “Just be patient until you get more used to Tony, okay? And stop chasing him so fast,” he added, more as an afterthought. “I could hear his knees popping.”

The whuff Tony let out was more offended than mournful this time.

“I’m going to run a quick load of laundry. Stay,” Steve ordered, leaning in to kiss Bucky’s forehead before he stood. “And for the love of god, if I have to repair this post again, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Bucky noticed Tony’s eyes darting between him and the post and couldn’t help his chest puffing out proudly. Admittedly, breaking the post had been an accident, but if Tony was impressed, he wasn’t going to tell him so.

Steve rolled his eyes as he grabbed the hamper from the bedroom, then walked over to give Tony a pat on the head as well. “Good boy, staying exactly where Natasha told you to. Stay there, okay?”

Tony’s tail wagged, and he let out a soft woof as he watched Steve head to the door and open it.

The door closed behind Steve with a soft click, and Bucky sighed and laid his head on his paws again. Better not test Steve and Natasha’s patience again. Best to just keep his head down and hope they forget that he and Tony had made a mess of Natasha’s clothes and Bucky’s feeding station, which Steve would now have to clean up.

Bucky heard Tony return to his paws and squinted an eye open to watch him. Tony had gotten back up and moved over to the trashed feeding station, sniffing it curiously. Then he wandered over to Natasha’s purse, nosing around in it. Not finding what he was looking for, he then turned his attention to Bucky’s toys again, and slapped one of his fetch balls and chased after it. He was going to get in trouble, Bucky thought. Natasha had to shower because of their shenanigans, after all, and having to take baths was really annoying. Tony was either very brave or very stupid. Bucky was still feeling a bit bitter about the leash, so he decided Tony was stupid.

Bucky growled when the ball bounced over and thumped him against the side of the head, slamming his paw down on it before it rolled away. Tony paused a few feet from him, tail swinging back and forth slowly, before he ducked his head, eyeing the ball speculatively. He let out a little woof, questioning, then dropped his front paws forward, tail up and wagging as he tried to draw Bucky into play with a wide grin.

Bucky closed his eyes again, ignoring him. He heard Tony huff and unconsciously curled his paw tighter around the ball. When he felt something nudging at his paw, he opened his eyes with another growl, baring his teeth when he saw Tony had invaded his space in an attempt to swat the ball back to play with. Tony, miraculously, growled back. It startled Bucky enough that he closed his mouth, trying to figure out where Tony’s sudden aggression had come from. Then Tony lunged at him.

Well, lunged at the ball still beneath his paw, but Bucky only realized that belatedly, surging to his feet and using his bulk to shove Tony back, away. Tony was not to be deterred, trying to shove back at him, but as scrappy as he might be, he had nothing on Bucky, both in size and in skill. He hadn’t forgotten everything about his time in the dog fighting ring before he'd been rescued.

Tony yelped as Bucky mounted him again, paws scrambling across the tiles, but Bucky clenched his front paws tight around him, keeping him pinned beneath him as he rutted against him. Maybe, if he was able to get Tony to submit, he’d teach Tony to stop being so aggressive in Bucky’s own fucking home. Tony scrambled under him, whining, but Bucky wasn’t going to be deterred this time. It was time to settle this once and for all.

Tony flailed his front paws back, and Bucky was confused when he heard something clatter to the ground, which made him reluctantly back off. He didn’t want to hurt Tony. Just show him who was the top dog.

It took him a moment to realize that the sound had been Tony’s tail harness falling to the ground around his thighs. He blinked, surprised. It couldn’t have just fallen off. Natasha was a meticulous owner. Tony must have pushed it off with his reach. He cocked his head, considering what this meant, but as he watched, Tony turned, dropping onto his elbows and shoving his rear up, toward him. His hole glistened, empty and clenching, between his cheeks.

Oh, Bucky realized, unable to help a startled huff as he leaned in, nosing his muzzle between Tony’s cheeks. That was why Tony had been so aggressive and skittish in turns. He was in heat. Bucky took this in, considering. Tony was a poodle. Surely Natasha would have found another poodle to breed him? Or something that would make, what were they called… doodles? Doodles were popular, whatever they were, he recalled. She must not have known how close Tony was, otherwise, she wouldn’t have scheduled the play-date.

Tony whined, shoving his ass up higher, and well. Tony had obviously chosen him. Who was he to hesitate?

Bucky mounted him again, curling his front legs around Tony as he rutted against him with more purpose, cock hardening quickly at the prospect of breeding Tony up. It took a few thrusts, but finally, the head of his cock found Tony’s hole, and he thrust forward again harder, sinking in halfway in one go. He tightened his grip on Tony as he thrust in further, pressing them together so that Tony’s fur tickled his chest and stomach. Tony let out a whimper, shuddering below him, but Bucky didn’t stop, instead spreading his back legs for more leverage to fuck him in earnest.

Tony took it like a champ, whimpering and whining beneath him even as he shoved his own hips back to meet Bucky’s thrusts. He was so wet and hot inside, Bucky felt his knot swelling quickly in response. Tony was so soft and needy below him, taking each brutal thrust with ease, spreading his own back legs to give him more room to work with. He bet Tony would have lots of pups. Natasha took really good care of him, fed him well, kept him groomed real nice, gave him lots of treats and expensive beds. Tony would look really good, belly swollen with pups. His pups. Bucky wanted everyone to know that Tony was his bitch and they were his pups being carried in his round belly.

Tony threw his head back over Bucky’s shoulder, mouth open wide as he panted. Bucky snuffled into his throat, suddenly regretting the muzzle for a different reason—he wanted to be able to take in Tony’s scent better, the slick sweat, the lingering scent of fruit on his breath. He wanted to be able to lick his vulnerable throat, press his teeth in until Tony whimpered in supplication and always dropped into breeding position for him, submissive and sweet.

Bucky shifted his hips as his knot began catching on Tony’s hole, shortening his thrusts. He heard Tony begin to let out a low whine and shifted his right front paw, giving him something to rut up against as well. Tony began shifting his hips, rocking down into his paw and then back into his knot. Bucky tightened his grip on him and planted his feet so he could rut forward once, twice, before finally forcing his swollen knot past Tony’s hole.

Tony howled, back arching, hips stuttering weakly before he fell limp with a low whine. Bucky adjusted his grip so Tony didn’t fall right on his face, rocking into him a little longer just so his ears could pick up on the wet squelch as he fucked his spend deeper into Tony’s hole, the little huffs every time his knot tugged at his rim. He wanted to lick Tony all over and whined when he realized his muzzle prevented it. How was he supposed to lick him clean after they untied? He gathered Tony up against him, possessive. Maybe he could get Steve to take the muzzle off when he saw that Bucky was definitely not going to try and bite Tony anymore. Not when breeding him was an option.

.-.

Natasha almost fell out of the shower in her rush to get out of it when she heard Tony howl. She’d been foolish to think Tony would stay in one place while she showered when there was another dog to bother. Steve had said he’d tie Bucky up and would only be gone ten minutes for his trip to the laundry room, and she’d believed that would be enough.

She should have brought Tony into the bathroom with her. Tony had gotten into trouble after being left alone for two minutes, let alone ten, and that was when he didn’t have another aggressive dog to contend with. The sound of rushing water made him nervous, but if she kept the curtain open so he could see her, his anxiety was manageable. And at least that way he’d be safe from Bucky.

She didn’t even bother to grab a towel, feet slipping on the floor before her hands caught the doorknob and she could hold herself upright while she got the door open. If Bucky was attacking Tony again, she’d elbow drop him right in the kidney. She’d feel bad about it later, probably, but in order to protect her pup, she’d do anything to keep him safe.

Natasha slipped on her way out into the living room, and the only reason she didn’t eat shit was because she managed to get onto one of the rugs decorating the floor. Her eyes scanned for Tony, and she found him under Bucky. She took a step forward, arm already lifting to drop her elbow directly into Bucky’s left kidney, but then Tony let out a sound, half whimper and half moan, and she froze in place. She was intimately familiar with that sound—sated, fucked out, and comfortable. She couldn’t help her mouth dropping open a little in shock. In the ten minutes that she’d been in the shower and Steve had been in the laundry room, they’d fucked. And Bucky had somehow gotten him to come in that short amount of time, too.

Natasha returned to the bathroom to put on the shirt and pajama pants Steve had left her, because Tony always needed a couple minutes to come down from his orgasm. Then she went back out into the living room, fully intending to tear Bucky off her poor, abused dog.

“Oh my god,” Steve said faintly as he stepped inside. “Are they—did they...?”

“Yep,” Natasha replied, clipped, as she approached Bucky. He glanced at her sharply out of one eye, but she didn’t let that deter her. “Steve, help me get him—”

“We can’t,” Steve cut in, face going an interesting shade of puce. “They’re tied.”

Natasha swiveled to face him, expression going flat. “What did you just say to me?”

Steve grimaced, then sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “When we’re at home, Bucky wears this sheath over his dick. He likes the way it sort of helps… immerse him in his pup headspace? But recently we, uh. We were trying out this one where the knot actually swells bigger with stimulation?” He slid his hand back to rub the back of his head bashfully. “So it. It’s too big to pull out, probably.”

Natasha chewed on the inside of her cheek as she considered this new information. She knew about the wearable sheaths, though Tony preferred not to wear them himself—felt too constricting, he’d said. She’d never heard of one that swelled with stimulation, though. “…Where did you find this new sheath?” she asked carefully.

Steve brightened. “Oh, well, Tony suggested it! I mentioned I wanted to… buy Bucky some more…” He covered his mouth, shocked, then let his hands drop to his sides. “Oh my god.”

“Tony,” Natasha hissed, gripping her hands into fists. Of course. He must have planned this. He wouldn’t put himself in danger, especially when she was supposed to be taking care of him. He respected her too much. “I am withholding treats for a month.”

“It’s really nice that you think you’ll be able to do that,” Steve told her kindly.

Natasha hated that he was right. Tony had puppy eyes on the best of days. In his pup head space, mournful and contrite? She’d fold like a cheap suit. “You and Tony are splitting the dry-cleaning.”

Steve looked at the pups again and winced when he saw that Tony’s fur was flattened between his back and Bucky’s chest, and he’d drooled into the fur on the front. “Yeah, okay,” he sighed, walking over to unclip Bucky from his leash. He tapped Bucky firmly on the forehead when he whined. “Muzzle stays because it’s what we agreed on before play.”

Bucky whuffed, sounding annoyed, but pressed his muzzle more firmly against Tony’s throat.

Steve raised his hands and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Maybe if you weren’t such a bully before, you’d be wearing your hood.” He gave Bucky a pat on the head to take some of the sting out of it before walking over to sit on the couch.

Natasha watched them a little longer, just to make sure that they were safe, before she trudged over to flop onto the couch. “If he wanted to be bred, he could have just told me,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Uhf! Thanks,” Steve grunted as she landed half on his stomach. He curled an arm around her waist to tug her into a more comfortable position. “He gets skittish when he wants things. You know that. We’ll just have to sit him down and remind him that we love him and that he can ask for things.”

“Ugh,” Natasha huffed, knocking her head back against his shoulder.

She wasn’t looking forward to it. Like Steve had said, Tony was skittish. Had been the entire time she’d known him, even when she was undercover. He’d been terrified when he’d finally told her that sometimes he liked to engage in puppy play, had hurriedly added she didn’t need to subject herself to it before she could even open her mouth to respond. ‘I’ve been doing it by myself for a long time,’ he’d said earnestly, as if it wasn’t one of the most heartbreaking things she’d ever heard. He’d been similarly terrified when Natasha talked about bringing Steve and Bucky into playing with them.

Of course he’d be scared to admit he wanted to make the play sexual. Just because everything worked out with the three of them, it didn’t mean he could forget how he was treated by people he trusted in the past.

Natasha heaved a sigh, closing her eyes. “God. Well, while we’re talking, I’m gonna bring up how you guys never come to our apartment. I know you guys feel awkward around his expensive stuff but to Tony it’s just stuff and he feels sad that you guys never want to play there.”

“Bucky worries he’ll ruin Tony’s toys,” Steve replied, shrugging a little.

“I’m gonna fucking tear that plush dog bed in half at brunch tomorrow to show Bucky how much Tony doesn’t care,” Natasha said, voice flat, and wondered if Steve was aware she was serious when he chuckled. She was going to rip it beyond repair just so Bucky and Steve could watch Tony slow-blink before saying something along the lines of ‘well, that color was getting boring anyway.’

[benevolentgodloki]

@mischieftomake continued from here:

A wicked grin spread over Loki’s face in response to his companion’s words. It felt so good to be accompanied by someone who didn’t try to hold him back for once, who didn’t question or quibble because they were on the same page from the beginning (or at least since the beginning of this little ordeal). A dull ache faintly made itself known in some distant part of his heart, as he was reminded of how it sometimes felt to work side by side with Thor on those occasions that they managed to be like minded enough to be compliments to one another rather than clashing- something that had happened less and less frequently as the centuries wore on.

“Anything that can easily be crushed under the heel of a boot. I’ve had enough of people standing in my way for the rest of the century.” His smile wavered just a little, as he couldn’t help but notice that the man with the clipboard whose transformation and subsequent death they were loudly plotting didn’t seem concerned in the slightest by their discussion. In fact, his expression barely seemed to have changed at all from the bored and irritated one he’d been wearing since he and his other self had been dropped into the room.

Perhaps he simply didn’t understand who he was dealing with. Or perhaps he was just arrogant, or stupid. Whatever it was, he would soon learn from his mistake.

Fuelled on by his double's encouragement, Loki matched the grin. Any reasonable man would be quaking in his boots at the sight of two Lokis about to invoke their wrath. Somewhere at the back of his mind there was a wise god trying to point out that the man was not even slightly perturbed by them. Everyone here had treated them with practical disinterest.

But he had an image to maintain, another Loki to impress. This clipboarded fool was going to become a cockroach.

"Absolutely. I couldn't agree more."

He thrust a hand out at the bureaucrat, snarling in premature triumph.

Loki's face fell. He looked at his hand, out of which not even a puff of seidr had channelled.

"Er... hang on, let me try that again."

It was the mind sceptre and Tony Stark all over again, except this was his magic, not a malfunctioning weapon.

Teeth bared, Loki cast both his palms toward the unfazed intended insect.

Nothing. It was like being frozen at room temperature, his magic completely inert.

"It's not working," he hissed at his companion. Would it be better or worse if it turned out the other Loki was capable?

[venus-haze]

In the Mood for Love (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Elvis breaks up with you just as his career is taking off, as if your support for him meant nothing. You finally manage to work through your heartbreak and start what you think is a new chapter in your life with someone who seems to understand what you’re going through. After two months of guilt and regret, Elvis returns to Memphis to find that you’ve apparently moved on, but he’s determined to win you back.

Note: This is based off of an anonymous request. Reader is gender neutral. I listened to the soundtrack from In the Mood For Love (one of my favorite movies ever) while writing this, and Frank is inspired by Tony Leung’s character Chow. Please let me know what you all think. Requests are open🔮 Do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Some jealous behavior, but nothing disturbing.

Walking up to ‘Miss Louann’s Dance Studio’ as the sun set purple behind you, you felt your stomach flip at the prospect of stepping out of your comfort zone. You signed up for a beginner’s Latin dancing class on a whim, wanting something to take your mind off of Elvis, your boyfriend of two years, breaking up with you as soon as he started getting famous.

Even if you ended up being terrible at it, you hoped a new hobby and making new friends would be a step in the right direction of getting yourself out of the funk you’d been in for the past two months. You’d go to work and feel sorry for yourself, come home and cry yourself to sleep, and be an absolute drag whenever you went out with friends because inevitably his music was playing somewhere. If anyone but your ex had recorded ‘Heartbreak Hotel’, you’d probably have the record on non-stop. You decided enough was enough, and you needed to move forward with your life.

The dance class was held twice a week in the evenings, which fit in perfectly with your work schedule. The modest dance studio showed signs of wear, especially on the wood flooring with grooves and scuff marks from years of dancers moving across it. Miss Louann had opened the studio after the war, and it seemed like she hadn’t updated anything since.

You set your bag down next to the others that were piled against the wall. Scanning the room, you noticed a mix of a few dozen couples and singles, all appearing to be in their late teens to mid-thirties. You walked over to a small group of people, awkwardly introducing yourself. To your relief, they were all friendly, and you enjoyed the casual conversation with them.

Miss Louann walked into the studio wearing a bright red dress with ruffles at the hem, her matching heels clicking against the floor. Certainly a bold look, but she caught everyone’s attention right away.

"Circle please, my dears! I want to see everyone’s lovely faces!" she declared, her voice as loud as her outfit. "Since this is a large class, we’ll skip over introductions, which is a shame because I’m extremely nosy and like to know as much about people as possible."

This brought on chuckles and laughs from the other people in the class. You liked Miss Louann already.

"If you currently do not have a partner, please raise your hand so I can pair you up. Now, the person you’re partnered with may rotate, depending on the number of people in the class,” she said, “but if you don’t mind being paired with a person of the same gender, I certainly don’t have any objections. C’est la vie!"

You lifted your hand. You didn’t care whether you were paired with a man or woman, truth be told. Miss Louann busied herself with partnering people up, while the couples who’d come together took their places on the floor.

"Your name, dear?" she asked when she walked up to you.

"Y/N," you answered.

"Y/N, let’s see which of these bums is good enough for you, hm?" she joked as she scanned the men standing around without a partner. There were a handful more women than men in the class, but some of the girls seemed to know each other already and paired up anyway.

Miss Louann’s eyes lit up, and she waved her manicured hand. "Frank, dear, you’ll be Y/N’s partner."

Frank gave you a warm smile as he walked over to you. He was handsome, with a boy next door look that immediately endeared you to him. Not as handsome as Elvis. You shook the thought from your mind. He was the last person you wanted to think about.

You and Frank stood next to each other as Miss Louann explained the basics of Latin dance, having studied it as she lived in various parts of South America before the Depression. Even then, she said that the style was diverse, ever evolving, that you could never truly stop learning. She demonstrated a simple dance to start, one to get everyone into the rhythm of the music and dance style.

"This first class isn’t about how good you are. I want you to have fun tonight," she said. "Now get to it!"

You turned to face Frank, who held his hand out for you.

"Sorry in advance if I trip you up," he said.

"I’ve never done this before either, so no judgment," you said.

During your dance together, Frank confessed over Nat King Cole’s cover of ‘Quizas quizas quizas’ that he joined the class to get his mind off of a recent breakup with his longtime girlfriend. You quickly divulged that you were there for almost the exact same reason. Strangely, you felt comforted knowing you were lonely, but certainly not alone. You spoke with Frank as you danced, getting to know each other better. While he told you that his ex was named Cynthia, you didn’t tell him your ex’s name. After all, how many guys named Elvis were walking around?

The class ended far too soon for your liking, but Frank offered to drive you home, which you gladly accepted. You knew how it’d look to have a guy dropping you off at your place late at night, especially one you’d only just met, but for the first time in weeks, you arrived home in a good mood. Your parents were visibly relieved when you walked in with a smile on your face, chattering on about how fun the class was. They’d expressed concern for you, but you’d brushed them off, wanting to wallow and mope instead. It was nice having something to look forward to again.

You ended up becoming friends with some of the people from your dance class, much to your delight. While none of you were trying to make it professionally as dancers, it was fun getting together to practice at the nearby park and then go out to eat or get drinks afterward. Even though everyone came from different backgrounds, you at least had the dancing that brought you together.

You and Frank especially grew close, spending more and more time with him outside of class. Usually the two of you would find a diner that was open 24/7, spending hours talking over baskets of fries and glasses of milkshakes. You felt validated knowing that your response to the breakup wasn’t an overreaction, that he’d felt the same hurt and betrayal you did and sunk into a hole of loneliness and depression he never thought he’d claw his way out of. His ex-girlfriend Cynthia had cheated on him with one of his best friends, just as Frank was saving up to buy a ring and propose to her. He spent the money on the dance class instead. 

He spoke about Cynthia the same way you did Elvis, a nostalgic bitterness at the heartache, unable to even appreciate the memories of the good times without falling to pieces, and the knowledge you’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if given the chance. Frank was honest and sensitive, and you found yourself developing a bit of a crush on him from how much you’d opened up to each other in just a few weeks of being friends.

One night, when your parents were out late, he brought over a new album of assorted Spanish-language songs specifically for Latin dancing. What began as just listening to the album turned into impromptu dance practice, until during one particularly slow and sensual song, he boldly dipped you, kissing you sweetly and softly. It was like a scene out of a movie, and definitely not unpleasant, but you didn’t feel anything like when Elvis kissed you, where it seemed like nothing was real except you, him, and the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

From the disappointed expression on Frank’s face, you could tell the kiss didn’t live up to his expectations either. 

"Do you still love him?" he asked softly.

"Yeah,” you answered. “Do you still love her?"

"Yeah."

You sat down on the worn-out living room couch with him. "You know how he broke up with me to focus on his career," you said.

He nodded. You trusted him, but you didn’t want things to change between the two of you if he knew who your ex was. "Well, up until about two months ago, I was in a two year relationship with Elvis Presley."

"You’re kidding. The guy who does the thing with his hips and all that? I think one of my sisters has a poster of him in her room."

You laughed. "He sings too. Just when he started getting really famous, he dumped me. Said it was better for business if he was single, or something," you recounted sadly.

"I’m sorry, Y/N," Frank said. "I like you a lot, but if you’re not ready to be in a relationship, I’m happy to stay friends. I don’t think I am either, to be honest."

"Thank you, Frank," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "You’re a good kisser, by the way."

"Good to know," he said with a smile.

Things were going well, you were nailing the new dances Miss Louann taught, so much so that you and Frank spoke about signing up for the intermediate class together. 

You’d be glad to keep going to Miss Louann’s, and especially to spend more time with Frank. You did hang out with some of the other people from the class on your own, but none of them seemed to understand you like he did.

During one of your days off from work, you were running errands before meeting with Frank. In the produce section of the local grocery store, you ran into Gladys Presley. You’d been avoiding the Presleys since Elvis dumped you. His parents had always been kind to you, and you knew they had nothing to do with the breakup, but it was still too close to him. 

You gave her an awkward smile, unsure how to respond when she went marching over to you. She engulfed you in a hug, kissing your cheek.

“Y/N, honey, how are you?”

“I’m good, Mrs. Presley,” you said. It was weird to call her that, early on in your and Elvis’ relationship, she said you could just call her ‘Mama’ too.

“She must really like ya,” Elvis had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face. 

Her expression fell a bit, “We miss seein’ ya around, but I understand, honey. And believe me, I raised my boy better than to do you like that. It’s that damn Colonel–”

“I know,” you assured her. “How have you been?”

“Well, worryin’ myself sick,” she sighed. “He calls but you know him. The Colonel’s got him workin’ like a dog and all the press does is say he’s some delinquent. Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk so much. I have missed seein’ you, Y/N. You should come by for dinner sometime.”

“I’d love to, but I started taking a Latin dance class recently. Just to do something different,” you said with a shrug. “So I’ve been busy with that most evenings now. Some of us practice at the park up the street from the apartments.”

“That’s nice, honey. I’m glad you’re doin’ good.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Presley. It was great catching up with you.”

“You too, Y/N,” she said.

You walked down to an empty aisle to silently congratulate yourself for not breaking down when she mentioned him. Considering it a win, you treated yourself to a carton of your favorite ice cream, throwing it into the cart with a smile.

Meanwhile, in a roadside motel somewhere in Alabama, your ex-boyfriend was not having as good of a time of things as you were. He thought that the regret he felt at breaking up with you would go away, like the Colonel said, but he couldn’t get you off his mind, except when he was on stage. Even then, he found himself instinctively looking at the crowd for you. 

He had fans waiting outside of his motel rooms at all hours of the night, but he felt so deeply alone, like it threatened to consume him. He often found himself dialing the first few digits of your phone number before hanging up. It was a mistake. You were the one, and he blew it. 

During his frequent phone calls with his mother, he resisted the urge to ask about you, but this time he couldn’t help it. He was going home for the first time since he broke up with you, there to stay for a few weeks while the Colonel worked out his next album and supporting tour schedule.

"How’s uh—how’s Y/N?" Elvis asked.

"Y/N? You know, I ran into them at the grocer’s just the other day, and they said they started takin’ a Latin dancing class. We don’t see much of them anymore, though, Bewbie," Gladys said.

He sat on the motel bed, bewildered. He didn’t even know you liked Latin dancing, you’d never mentioned it once while the two of you were dating.

"Bewbie, you still there?"

"Yeah, I’m here, Mama."

"Darlene across the hall, she told me that she’s seen Y/N all over town with this boy they met dancin’. Think his name is Hank? No, Frank! And she said that she sees them dancin’ most every night at the park, you know the one right up the street here."

“Every night?”

“They sure are.”

"Well, I’ll be home for the next few weeks. Maybe I could see them there.”

"Bewbie, I love you, but the way you broke that sweet thing’s heart? I thought I raised you better."

"Mama, the Colonel said—"

"I don’t give a damn what that man said! A person’s heart is not somethin’ to be toyed around with, ‘specially not one like Y/N’s," she said, before letting out a wistful sigh. "Y’all woulda given me the cutest little grandbabies."

"Mama, c’mon," Elvis groaned.

"You made your choices, now you gotta live with it," she said. 

He quickly ended the call, lying back on the motel bed as he processed what his mama said. You going out dancing, and with a new guy at that. He couldn’t just sit around at home next week knowing he had the chance to make things right. 

Of course, it was near chaos when he arrived home. He could hardly get to the front door of the apartment building, and was stuck signing autographs until his mama pulled him inside, shouting for everyone to go away. It was nice to be home, in his own bed and eating home-cooked food, but he kept looking at the clock, wondering what time you’d be likely to go to the park. 

Around 8, he told his family he was going out. His mama gave him a warning glare, which he tried his best to ignore as he left. He was glad to find the emergency exit of the building open, so he could slip away without causing another scene with the handful of fans who were still waiting outside for him. 

The park wasn’t far, only a few blocks from where he lived. The night air was cool and refreshing against his skin as he walked. 

He noticed a dozen or so people sitting around one of the empty basketball courts. An older looking couple had a portable record player with them, along with a stack of albums. From a few yards away, he could hear the sound of an upbeat salsa tune, and watched as a couple began to dance. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes landed on what he knew to be you, sitting awfully close to a man. You were focused on the dancers, whispering to the man you were sitting next to every so often.

Elvis moved through the shadows, getting closer to where the group was. He leaned against a nearby tree, hoping to remain undetected by you until he could get you alone. 

“Y/N, Frank, you go next,” a young woman called out, appearing to startle you.

“Gracie, do you just like to put me on the spot?” you joked, the rest of the group laughing and making their own comments in response.

“I don’t wanna catch you slackin’, Y/N,” Gracie said with a mischievous smile.

Elvis felt his chest tighten at the sound of your laughter. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it. 

You walked under the soft glow of the streetlamp, hand-in-hand with who he could only assume was Frank. You were nervous, he could see the tics from a mile away. Your eyes never left Frank, though. Instead, you put your hand on his shoulder, and he placed his on your waist. A few silent moments later, the song began to play out. He recognized it vaguely. Perfidia.

He was stunned at the way you moved. Confident, graceful, in tune with the music and your partner. He slunk down against the tree, guilt and jealousy washing over him. He could remember when you used to look at him the way you did Frank, like there was no one else in the world but him. 

The group clapped for you and Frank, who you hugged tightly. You looked up from the hug to see Elvis standing alone, a few feet behind the group. You blinked rapidly. It had to be a dream, there was no way he was actually there. You had no idea how he’d even know about it, until you remembered you told his mother, who told him pretty much everything.

As you and Frank moved along for the next duo to practice, Elvis walked up to you. You stiffened, squeezing Frank’s hand. Elvis felt a pit in his stomach, did you hate him that much?

“Y/N, I—how are you?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you answered coolly. “Elvis, this is my friend Frank. Frank, this is Elvis.”

Frank stuck out his free hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Elvis said, giving Frank a half-hearted handshake. “You were incredible,” he said, looking at you.

“Thank you.”

"Can I talk to you?" he asked. "Alone?"

You looked to Frank, who nodded, staying behind to watch the next couple dance. You and Elvis silently made your way to another one of the empty basketball courts, the lamp illuminating that court flickering every so often. Shifting uncomfortably, you avoided eye contact with him.

"I didn’t know you dance,” he said.

"That’s because I didn’t, not until a few weeks ago.”

“If I’d known you wanted to dance I woulda—”

"Why did you come here tonight, Elvis?" you snapped.

He scratched the back of his head. "See, I was thinkin’ maybe we could give us another chance. I miss you, Y/N. I shouldn’t have broken up with you.”

You shook your head. Weeks ago you would have jumped at the chance to get back together with him. It wouldn’t be fair to Frank to go back to Elvis so easily, not when you and Frank had been trying so hard to get over past your relationships. You wanted to so badly, though. You still loved him.

"You can’t just come back here and say that. It’s been two months, Elvis. I have something good going with Frank."

"Frank? Darlin’ you only met him a few weeks ago,” he argued in exasperation. “He don’t know you like I do."

"And whose fault is that? Elvis, you made it clear I didn’t have a place in your life anymore."

"Y/N, please, I’ll do anything to get ya back."

"Can you just leave?" you asked, getting choked up by the words you’d dreamed him saying over and over for weeks.

"No, I did that before, and it’s the stupidest mistake I ever made."

"Look, I have to go. Congrats on the new single," you said, running off of the court and back over to Frank.

"Hey, are you alright?" Frank asked, putting his arm around you.

"He said he wanted to get back together," you said, your breath shaky. "That it was the stupidest thing he ever did, breaking up with me. I wanted to just say yes, but—"

"I know," he said softly. "If Cynthia did the same thing, I think I’d go back."

You sniffled. "We’re a couple of idiots, huh?"

"Seems like it," he said. “We’d be perfect together if it weren’t for that.”

You laughed, putting your head on his shoulder as he walked you over to the group, where you said goodbye before leaving with him in his car. Elvis watched the display of affection you showed Frank, feeling jealous yet again. 

He shouldn’t have followed Frank’s car back to your place, he knew that. But seeing Frank walk you up to your front door, the two of you talking quietly for a few moments before you kissed Frank’s cheek, bidding him goodbye made Elvis feel like lava was running through his veins. It wasn’t even a real kiss, but he punched the steering wheel in frustration nonetheless.

He watched as you walked into your house, turning to wave at Frank one more time from the doorway before heading in. Frank lingered on the doorstep for a moment before going back to his car. As Frank pulled away, Elvis wondered what was so special about Frank. You’d only known him for a few weeks, but it seemed like you were close. Did he treat you right? Did he think about you all the time? Did he love you?

Elvis hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting in his car until he glanced down at the clock on the car dashboard. Chewing his bottom lip, his eyes moved back and forth from the keys in the ignition to your darkened bedroom window. Finally, he grabbed his keys and got out of his car.

He stood on your front lawn, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to get up to your room. He’d never sneaked in through your bedroom window before, your parents had liked him enough that they let him come in any time of day. Now, he figured if he knocked on the front door, your dad would kill him. 

The lattice on the side of the house went only halfway to your room, which meant he’d have to grab a tree branch and maneuver over. He’d do it, though. You were worth the possibility of falling out of a tree and breaking his neck.

You were half asleep when you heard tapping on your bedroom window. Ignoring it as the wind, you closed your eyes—until you heard the window sliding open. You sat up, reaching for the lamp on your nightstand, ready to shout for your parents.

“Y/N? You up?” Elvis said before climbing through the open window.

“Elvis Aron Presley, get the hell out of my bedroom! What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, throwing a pillow at him.

“Somethin’ wild and spontaneous to show my love for you?” he offered weakly. “I had to see ya, Y/N. The past two months have been miserable. I can hardly sleep because I spend so much time thinkin’ about you. Food don’t even taste the same. It’s like everything got the good taken out of it. Maybe I deserve that much, but I’d do anything for a second chance.”

“A second chance,” you repeated. “You made me feel like no one could love me, and just when I thought I could make something work with Frank, you come back here and ask me to trust you to not put me through that again.”

“Darlin’, I swear on my life I won’t.”

“How could you do that to me? Like I didn’t even matter! Like I wasn’t there where you were still that kid too afraid to sing with the lights on! And the fact that you let some stranger talk you into dumping me like I was last week’s garbage. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? I could barely function for weeks! Then I meet someone who has the same hurt I do, and now you want me to hurt him? Who do you think you are?” you ranted, finally taking a breath.

“Tell me you love him. If you tell me you love Frank, I promise I won’t ever bother you again,” he said.

Your lip trembled. You wanted him to feel as dejected as you had, say it just for spite, but you couldn’t do it. Perhaps part of you did love Frank, but you knew you’d never be completely happy together. Not when he was just as hung up on Cynthia as you were on Elvis, no matter how hard either of you tried.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He wrapped his arms around you, crying into your shoulder. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s going to be a while before I can really trust you again though.”

Lifting his head, he nodded, tears tracked down his reddened cheeks. “I’ll earn it back. I’ll make sure you can be on tour with me. I’m gonna tell the whole world you’re mine, album sales be damned.”

“Well, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you scoffed, knowing the Colonel wouldn’t allow it.

“First thing in the morning, I’m callin’ every newspaper and radio station in the city myself,” he promised. “Hell, I’ll walk right into one of those tattoo parlors on Beale Street and get your name over my heart.”

You smiled, putting a hand on his chest. “Easy, cowboy. Papers and radio are fine for now.”

He nodded. “I wish I’d known you wanted to dance,” he said, repeating his sentiment from earlier. “You looked so graceful.”

“I didn’t before,” you answered honestly, “but thank you.”

He got up from your bed, leaving you confused as he looked through your record collection. It had changed since he was last in your room. Previously blues and gospel albums outnumbered any other genre, but the Latin music was getting close.

“What are you trying to find?” you asked.

“Somethin’ good, so you can show me how to dance with you,” he said.

“You don’t know what to look for,” you said, getting up from your bed. It didn’t take you long to grab a single that you knew would be perfect. I’m in the Mood for Love. 

In whispers, you explained the steps to him, trying to remember what Miss Louann had demonstrated on the first day of class. The two of you giggled over the soft music while he tried to follow your instructions. 

“C’mon, Elvis, I know you don’t have two left feet,” you teased.

“Hard to concentrate when I got such a beautiful partner,” he said, almost bashfully. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you said. “But you have to dip me.”

“Dip you?”

“You know, tilt me back while we’re dancing,” you explained while dropping the needle back at the beginning of the song.

“I can do that,” he said, holding out his hand for you.

He did well remembering the steps, the two of you dancing in an intense silence. At the perfect moment, the one you were thinking of, he dipped you back, his soft lips meeting yours. This time, it was magical, perfect even. You felt the butterflies in your stomach again. When you pulled away, looking into his eyes that shone with nothing less than adoration, you knew you made the right decision.